


An Unlikely Friendship

by irishgirlE



Series: An Unlikely Friendship [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 30,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15577611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirlE/pseuds/irishgirlE
Summary: Jack Frost and his longest believer, Sam Winchester.





	1. Snow Day

It was winter. It was usually winter wherever Jack Frost was. Winter or autumn. Or a particularly chilly spring. But, now, it was winter. Frost on the windows, ice on the roads, hats and scarves on the people, and the school children praying for snow.

Soon, Jack would answer those prayers. High above the clouds, snow drifts danced, waiting to be directed down on towns and cities, but, now, Jack was content to wait. It was winter. It was  _ his  _ time. He didn’t have to hurry. He wasn’t trying to chase away the scorch of summer or doing battle with the hazy forces of spring. The Kangaroo in particular. 

Now, Jack could relax. His chosen spot was far from his usual haunt of Burgess. He had dropped into a motel parking lot earlier today when he had spotted a crowd of children playing on the thin ice on the ground. 

Jack had sprinkled a few inches of snow on the ground and spent the day basking in their delight as they played with each other. Bringing laughter to children was Jack’s favourite thing to do. He loved watching them have fun. It made him feel a part of it. He could pretend that he belonged, that it didn’t matter if no one could see him. If no one believed in him. 

Jack had watched, sadly, when parents poked their heads out of motel rooms and called their children back inside. He watched as, one by one, the children trickled away, leaving only one pink skinned pair of boys. 

He watched, interested, when the older of the two scooped up the younger and carried him into a room. Curious, Jack followed him, slipping inside as the door shut. The older of the two boys - brothers, Jack assumed - dropped the younger one on his bed and started pulling off his wet clothes and letting the little brother try dress himself in his pajamas. 

Once he was dressed again, he left him on the floor to play with a scattering of toy cars and trucks on the ground. The older brother disappeared into another room, probably a bathroom, Jack decided. He found that he was right when, a minute later, a shower turned on.  

Jack was alone with the little boy. For lack of anything else to do, he sat down on the floor beside the child, and he watched him play with his toys. 

“Vroom! Vroom!” The little boy cried, crawling around on the floor as he rolled the cars on the ground.

Jack smiled. It wasn’t playing in the snow, but it was cute. He didn’t have much reason to spent time with very small children, but he aged this one at around two or three.  

"What's your name?" The boy asked suddenly, not looking up from his cars.

Jack froze and sat up straight. "What?" It almost sounded like he was talking to him. He had stopped making car sounds anyway. 

"What's your name?" The boy repeated. He rolled a car on the ground and then looked up at Jack, tilting his head curiously. 

Shocked, Jack stared into hazel eyes. Eyes that were staring straight at him, not through him or behind him.  _ At _ him. At  _ him _ .

"My name's Sammy," the boy said. “Do you not have name?” He asked. “Or do you not have a voice? My big brother sometimes doesn’t have a voice.” 

"I'm… I'm Jack Frost," Jack said, his voice was hoarse. He hadn’t talked to - at - anyone for weeks.

"That's a Christmas song!" Sammy squealed in delight and then he began singing as loud as he could.

"Sammy!" Someone shouted from the next room.

"Sorry Dean," Sammy yelled back, giggling. Jack laughed with him. 

Sammy held up his toy car. "Do you like my car? My daddy has one like this. And my Uncle Bobby has loads of cars like these."

"Sammy," the older boy said, poking his head in the door. "Who're you talking to?"

"Jack Frost," Sammy answered turning back to Jack. "This is my big brother, Dean. Do you have any big brothers?"

"Ehh, I don't think so. I don't remember."

"What do you mean you don't –"

Sammy was cut off when he was scooped up by Dean.

"C'mon Sammy." Dean quickly left the area carrying his baby brother towards the kitchenette, and casting a suspicious eye around the room. 

"Bye-bye, Jack Frost," Sam called, waving over Dean's shoulder.


	2. Ten Years On

It was winter again. That wasn’t unusual. It did happen every year. It would be strange if it wasn’t winter. The Winchesters were in a different town, city, state. Sam didn’t remember where he had been this time last year. He didn’t remember what state he had been in last month. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure what state he was in. He didn’t know what school he was attending either. He thought that it had a ‘Saint’ in the name. Maybe.

Sam sat on the cold, frost covered ground outside his current school - whatever it was called. Dean was stuck in detention and his dad was out-of-town on a hunt. Sam was stuck waiting for Dean. He huffed. He was twelve years old. The school was a fifteen minute walk away. It was hardly a trek. This was ridiculous! He was allowed go out to hunt werewolves but walking home alone was unheard of. It wasn’t even a dangerous route! It was through a suburbs and past a busy shopping centre. But, no. He had to wait an hour in the cold, outside of a deserted school building.

"Hiya Sammy!"

Sam jerked back into the school wall in shock. He stared open-mouthed at the white-haired frost covered teen in front of him. He had just appeared out of nowhere. Was it a spirit? How did he know his name?

"H…hi," Sam answered.

The teen frowned sensing Sam’s uncertainty. His shoulders dropped, and despair covered his face.

Sam felt bad. He had no idea who - or what - the teenager was, but he had clearly hoped that Sam would know him. "I'm really sorry but who are you?" Sam asked.

"You don't remember me," the teen mumbled sadly, looking as though his entire family had died.

"Sorry, I…" Sam trailed off. He tilted his head to the side. White hair, blue hoodie. Big shepherd’s crook. It triggered a distant memory. "Hang on, Jack Frost?"

Jack grinned. "You do remember!” He cheered. “So,” he dropped down to sit beside him. “Whatcha doing, Sammy?”

"I'm just waiting for Dean, my brother. And, uh… I actually go by Sam now,” Sam explained.

"Oh." Jack nodded. "Why are you waiting for Dean?"

"He's in detention. Again.” Sam rolled his eyes. If Dean wasn’t in detention then he was ditching him to go out with pretty girls. Sam knew that Dean loved him, and he knew that having his kid brother as a tagalong wasn’t cool, but he felt a bit neglected.

"Sounds like he's a bit of a trouble maker," said Jack, smiling. "Just like me."

Sam returned the smile. "Yeah, I bet." He frowned, remembering. "Dean didn't think you were real."

"But I am real,” Jack said, simply. As though that was that.

"Why didn't Dean see you?" Sam asked, he had wondered that when he first met Jack. Eventually, he had dismissed Jack as an imaginary friend. He still had some of the scribbles he had drawn with him and his ‘best friend Jack Frost’. It had confused a few of his teachers, he recalled.

"You have to believe in me to see me," Jack explained. "It's complicated."

"Oh." Sam shivered. "Well I'm going to be waiting a while," he prodded.

"Why don't you just walk home? Isn’t it warmer wherever you’re living?" Jack asked, side-stepping the question. He didn't really want to get into the nearly three centuries he spent alone.

"I'm not allowed walk home alone," Sam said, following Jack's lead. He recognised when someone didn’t want to talk about something.

"But you won't be alone,” Jack pointed out.

Sam thought for a minute. "I guess not,” he agreed. “I'll be just a minute. I have to tell Dean that I'll be home and not to worry." Sam turned and ran ten steps towards the school before he spun around again.

"Stay here," he ordered. "You disappeared the last time." And with that Sam hurried into the school.

Jack watched Sam's retreating figure. Dean hadn't wanted Sam near him when he was a toddler, he had wondered on that, but he wasn't going to mention it. While Sam was inside Jack entertained himself freezing the ground.

"Right, ready to go?" Sam asked panting for breath as he stopped beside Jack.

Jack nodded and they both started walking. Only for Sam to suddenly slip on some ice. Jack reached out and grabbed Sam's arm on instinct.

He stared in shock as his arm didn't pass through.

"Thanks for that… _Jack_ ?" Sam said, worried by the expression of disbelief on Jack's face. " _Ja-ack_ " Sam called. “Are you alright?”

Jack grinned and looked up at Sam. "C'mon let's go!" he said, feeling lighter than a feather. Someone believed in him. Someone believed. In him!


	3. Broken Wrists and Boredom

Aimlessly, Jack let himself be tossed by the wind. He had followed the wind currents all over the world and now he hovered over North America. Winter was just starting there and there was no need to drop ice and snow everywhere yet. Yet.

He would start to soon, but now he could get away with relaxing on the wind.

Abruptly, the current changed direction. Jack frowned. _What was it doing?_ He wondered, curious. He wasn't particularly worried, the wind would never hurt him.

He didn't know that for certain. He could communicate with the wind, but he couldn't exactly speak to it. Her. But, instinctively, from the first moment that she threw him up in the air like a child when he was just a newborn spirit, he had known that he could trust her. She had never let him down or make him doubt that in the centuries that she carried him. So he didn't worry. She always took him where he needed to go.

The ground farm below changed from building concrete to mountain stone to forest trees. Jack grinned when he caught sight of a familiar Impala parked beside the trees. He whispered a thank you into the air, hoping that she heard it and suspecting that she did before he twirled in the air and floated down until he was at the level of the smallest trees. With a gentle tousle of his hair, the wind whistled away, leaving him to drop down himself.

Jack landed on the roof with a small thump. He dropped down on his knees soundlessly and lowered himself to peer in the window.

“Hello?”

 

* * *

 

Sam rubbed his gloved hands together with a low huff. It was freezing alone in the car. And he couldn't turn the heat on because he would have to turn the car on and that might call on all the nasties living somewhere beyond the tree line. So he was stuck, freezing and lonely. Irritable and in pain.

His dad and Dean had left him alone, _again_. Although it wasn't completely their fault this time. Well, they hadn't done it out of genuine malice and dislike or apathy. He had broken his wrist in the last town. He couldn't fire a gun with his left hand. So they left him behind.

As though that was all he was good for.

Sam had been alone by himself plenty of times, but he usually had something to entertain himself with, even if it was just laundry.

They had been gone too long. Sam had finished his homework hours ago and he had nothing to take his mind off how long it was taking. Nothing to take his mind of the thoughts of having to salt and burn his dad and brother. And that wasn't even considering the thought that they might not have finished the hunt and there might be a monster lurking nearby.

Suddenly, there was a thump on the roof. Sam jerked, left hand clumsily fumbling for the weapon he had been left with. After a moment, however, a head of white hair poked down at the window. Sam smiled at Jack's grin and greeting even as his heart pounded in his chest. He rolled his eyes while he rolled down the window and the white-haired spirit tumbled in. Opening the window did nothing for the cold but at least he wouldn't be all by himself now.

"Hi Jack."

"Sam!" Jack replied, still grinning madly.

Sam laughed it wasn't often someone was that happy to see him. He suspected that it was the same for the spirit.

"Cause any blizzards lately?" Sam wondered.

"Of course," Jack answered as though it was obvious, which it kind of was. Sam had caught snatches of weather reports in between Metallica tapes. There had been a storm making its way around the northern states, mainly just tossing snow and blowing air. Sam suspected that Jack was warming up for the winter.

"How are the snow people?" He asked.

"Silent."

Sam laughed at the seriousness in Jack's tone. One day, he hoped to see the snow people army - because there are snowmen and snow-women, he was an equal opportunity builder - that Jack claimed to have built in the Arctic.

"Why are you here alone? It's cold," Jack said, concerned. He might not feel the cold, but he understood the danger it could pose.

Sam waved around his cast. "I broke it when a poltergeist pushed me down some stairs," he explained.

Jack hissed in sympathy. "That sounds painful."

"It was,” Sam replied, simply, brushing over the days of incredible pain lying in the back of the Impala before his dad figured out that he wasn't just whining and had taken him to a hospital to have his wrist x-rayed and plastered. The only good thing about the entire experience was the filthy looks the nurses kept throwing his dad when learned how long his wrist had been broken before they went to the hospital.

"Hey! Look!" Jack exclaimed pointing to the window.

Sam turned, and his eyes widened. "Dad! Dean!"

His dad and Dean were stumbling back to the car with two werewolves hot on their tails.

Sam dove across the seat and grabbed the hand gun his dad had left for him. Sam hopped from the car and Jack followed him with his staff held out, ready. Sam held the gun in his left hand and kept it steady with his right. He aimed for the werewolf closest. He knew he wouldn't have time to finish both of them off before they got his dad or Dean.

"Jack, hit the bigger one!" Sam ordered.

He fired his gun at the same time Jack hit the second one. It was only pushed back  but that gave Sam enough time to take it down.

"Thanks." Sam breathed as he watched his family catch their breath.

Jack nodded. "No problem. Pesky wolves. Is your wrist okay?"

Sam nodded too, rubbing his wrist. The recoil had made fire shoot up his arm. Jack tapped his staff to his wrist numbing it.

"Thanks. You saved my family." Sam muttered trying not to make it obvious he was talking to someone his heavily panting family couldn't see.

"You're welcome." Jack replied, clapping Sam on the back. "Alright wind, take me away!"

As the wind whisked him off, he heard the strains of Sam's dad’s voice giving out that Sam hadn't stayed in the car.

He rolled his eyes. _Some people._


	4. An Adult Believer

 

Sam was grateful for his family - his dad, Dean and his uncle Bobby. He was grateful for a break from hunting. He was grateful for Christmas holidays. And sometimes he was grateful that he was left by himself, away from his dad and Dean.

 

Only sometimes, though. This was one of those times.

 

Sam stifled a laugh and ducked back behind the rusty old shell of a long abandoned pick-up truck as a snowball sailed over his head.

 

"Missed me, Frostbite!" Sam cried out, grinning.

 

"Yeah right, Sammy!" Jack yelled, jumping out behind him.

 

Sam spun around with a stifled squeal that he released when he got a face full of snow. He laughed, wiping away the snow hurriedly and retaliating instantly with his own handful of snow.

 

Laughter filled the air as snowballs sailed through the air between the two boys. Even if only one of them could be seen.

 

"Sam!"

 

Sam looked away from Jack and over towards Bobby who was standing just inside the doorway, peering between the old cars in search of his wayward lodger. Sam smiled sadly at Jack. Moving around so much meant that he had very few people he could consider friends. And, other than Dean, all of them were adults. Sam had been called mature plenty of times in his life by plenty of teachers and hunters, but he enjoyed being a kid, he enjoyed being with other kids. He liked doing the kid things that Dean made fun of him for.

 

Saying goodbye to one of the only people that he could do those things with was always upsetting. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Sam asked hopefully, with a small wave.

 

The winter spirit nodded enthusiastically, slightly more used to saying goodbye, and happy that he _could_ say anything to anyone. “Of course!”

 

Sam turned with a small smile and hurried back towards the house with bright cold reddened cheeks. Jack followed behind him. He knew Sam knew he was following but Sam didn't mind, so Jack didn't care.

 

"Sam?" Bobby said slowly with a slight widening of his eyes. "Get back in the house."

 

Jack noticed the man who claimed to be Sam's uncle peering over his 'nephew's' shoulder. Jack glanced over his own shoulder to see nothing. But, when he turned back around and followed the older man’s eye line he found that he was staring at something. He was staring directly at… At _him._

 

"Why?" Sam asked, frozen in place, having noticed where Bobby was looking. He resisted the urge to turn, unsure of whether or not it was something else, or whether it was just Jack. Neither one of those things were good.

 

Bobby picked up a shotgun from where it was kept behind the door and aimed it at the winter spirit, moving forward to close the distance between himself and Sam, trying to protect him

 

Jack found that idea laughable. "That won't hurt me!" He claimed, although he wasn’t entirely sure. He was in his element now, at full strength, but he had never been shot before.

 

Sam shot Jack a quick warning look to keep quiet, which he followed up with a reassuring smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. He turned back to Bobby, carefully, not wanting to startle the older hunter. "Don't worry, that's just Jack,” he reassured, trying to sound completely calm and falling just short of the mark.

 

"Just Jack!" Jack scoffed quietly, but any affront disappeared due to Jack's smile.

 

"Jack who?" Bobby demanded not lowering the gun and still gesturing for Sam to get in the house.

 

Both teenagers grinned and in perfect sync shouted. "Jack Frost!"

 

Bobby stared at the two of them, equally shocked and suspicious, with his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to figure out a response. After a low moment he settled on: “What?”

 

Jack stepped around Sam, despite the young hunter’s attempts to pull him back, and moved over to Bobby. "Hi, I'm Jack Frost. I'm the winter spirit,” he introduced, proudly. He swung around his staff. "This is my stick,” he added, brightly.

 

Sam snorted loudly behind him and tried once more to tug the spirit to safety.

 

Jack tilted his head at the seasoned hunter. "I don't think I've ever been seen by an adult before. Why can you see me and almost no one else can?” He said, somewhat accusingly.  He looked closely at Bobby, causing the older man to lean away from the bringer of winter with an involuntary shiver. "You still believe."

 

Sam walked up beside his visible-invisible friend. "Jack's my friend. We met when I was younger, and we've been friend for years," Sam explained. "He won't hurt anyone," he added.

 

Jack nodded in agreement, unconsciously leaning closer to Sam in support.

 

"Does your brother know about any of this?" Bobby asked, glancing between the pair. One a lively young boy, the other… another lively young boy who was apparently Jack Frost.

 

Sam and Jack both shook their heads with very serious expressions on their faces. "He can't!" Sam cried. "He'd only tell my dad. Dad will kill Jack!"

 

Jack looked up at Bobby pleading. "Please. I don't want to be alone again but if I thought you'd be in trouble…" he trailed off, knowing Bobby would know what he meant.

 

Bobby looked indecisive for a moment. He sighed. "Come on inside." He stood to the side and put away the shotgun. Sam and Jack smiled at each other. Sam walked into the house and Jack started to follow before Bobby grabbed his shoulder.

 

"You're real," he muttered, still doubtful.

 

"You can see me," Jack responded cheerfully, blinking back joyful tears at being believed in. One believer was almost more than he could hope for. But two? That was absolute joy.

 

Bobby smiled and nodded. "I’ve heard stories about you."

 

"I hate to tell you, but they're probably based on lies. I'll tell you the real story. Now, no matter what the Easter kangaroo tells you, the Blizzard of '68 was not my fault,” Jack began , gearing himself up for a long rant.

 

Bobby met Sam's eyes over Jack's head. Sam just grinned and he knew he wouldn't forget this Christmas break.


	5. A Little Lesson on Hunting

It was late October and there was a chill in the air.

 

Jack breathed in the frigid air and he grinned. He silently thanked the spirit of autumn for letting him play during the late autumn months.

 

Sam watched Jack skip around spreading frost on the windows of cars and buildings. He smiled and shivered. Sam shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. He checked the time on his watch and scowled as he noticed his dad was over two hours late. And he knew that if he left and walked home and his dad showed up then there would be hell to pay. 

 

The library had closed an hour ago and all his homework and research was finished so he didn't even have something to keep himself occupied. Then Jack had shown up.

 

"You look worried," Jack observed slumping down on the bench beside Sam. He pulled up one knee and rested his staff between his legs, until it was laying across his chest and over one shoulder.

 

"My dad's late," Sam explained quietly, he did his best to keep his teeth from chattering. Jack usually got quite upset when he noticed how his presence made Sam shiver.

 

"Oh," Jack answered, simply. He frowned as he took in Sam’s pale skin and the shudders that racked his frame. Jack tilted his head in confusion. He was only spreading frost, he wasn't making it cold. Neither was the spirit of autumn. He, Jack and Sam Hain all had an arrangement. Jack didn't make Halloween too cold, and then he was allowed to spread frost throughout late September and October.

 

Jack gulped guiltily when he noticed Sam's shivering. Not too cold was still pretty cold after two hours of it. 

 

"Why can't your dad know about me?" Jack asked hoping to keep Sam talking, and paying attention to something other than the chill.

 

"I-I told you why," Sam answered, confused.

 

"Yeah, yeah. I know he'll kill me, and all that, but  _ why  _ will he kill me?" Jack responded quickly.

 

Sam smiled at ‘and all that’. Being a spirit, Jack didn’t have much consideration for death, his own especially. He swallowed, “remember those  _ things _ that you helped me fight when my wrist was broken?"

 

Jack nodded.

 

"They were werewolves," Sam stated.

 

"Werewolves, like… werewolves? Howling at the moon, shifting into a beast once a month, werewolves?"

 

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Well, my mom was killed by a different… thing. A demon. And my dad swore to hunt all the creatures of the night. Ghosts, spirits, demons, poltergeists, wendigos, werewolves, shapeshifters, you name it."

 

"When you say spirits…?" Jack trailed off.

 

"Like dead people who came back 'because they have unfinished business," Sam explained. "Not your kind of spirit, like Spirit of..."

 

Jack nodded in understanding.

 

"You're not, I dunno… scared?" Sam wondered.

 

Jack just shrugged. Sam was his best friend, he wasn't going to mess this up. "Do  _ you _ hunt creatures?"

 

"No," Sam replied. He usually waited in the car or did the research. The killing was mostly up to his dad and Dean. 

 

"Do you agree with hunting?" Jack asked.

 

Sam shrugged this time. "If they're hurting people. Or if they might hurt people."

 

"Well that's okay!" Jack said, grinning. “It’s just like police.”

 

Sam laughed. He didn’t think the actually police would agree with that sentiment. 

 

"You won't hunt me though?" Jack wondered. "I mean winter hurts people,” he said, frowning. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, but he couldn’t ignore it.

 

"It's a part of nature," Sam replied with a shrug.

 

Jack smirked without any happiness behind it. "Anyway I've got a deal with some of the other spirits, you know: Nature, Flower, Summer, Grim Reaper – if I go bad they're gonna 'put me down'."

 

Sam stared at the winter spirit. "Why would you ask them to do something like that?!"

 

Jack didn't look at Sam. "There once was a spirit named Jokul Frosti. He was the old frost spirit, he went pretty bad. Everyone was afraid I would too."

 

"Yeah, but you're Jack Frost. You're in Christmas songs, not nightmares. You can't go bad," Sam brushed off.

 

Jack stared at Sam, searchingly. "I think you have too much faith in me," he muttered.

 

"I'm your first believer, I believe in you –  _ obviously _ . Plus you did kinda save my dad and brother's life. Even knowing that they would kill you if they knew.”

 

Jack continued staring at Sam.

 

Suddenly, a car pulled up in the library car park, wheels screeching. The door swung open and John hopped out of the car.

 

"Sorry, Sammy. I completely lost track of the time!"

 

John hurried over in front of Sam. He reached out and brushed his fingertips over Sam's cheeks. "God, Sam, you're freezing! C'mon let's get you inside." John pulled Sam up by his arm and over to the Impala.

 

As he was pulled away Sam winked at Jack.

 

Jack laughed quietly. Old Man Winter had once told him that people who saw spirits sometimes ended up going crazy. Sam was definitely crazy.


	6. Dean's Fever

Sam tugged back the curtain as he waited, peering out into the darkness hoping against hope that there would be a dark impala waiting there, but there was nothing. He was alone. He glanced down at the thermometer in his hand with a dying sense of hope. No, nothing had changed. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously. Dean's fever hadn't broken. It had gotten higher since Sam had last checked. 

Sam quietly cursed and rinsed out a new cloth to lie on Dean’s forehead. It wasn’t working. Nothing was working and Dean was dying. 

He shouldn't have listened to his brother when he said it would be fine. He should have demanded he went to the hospital to get stitched up and treated with antibiotics instead of letting him do it at the motel with some whiskey. 

"C'mon Dean," Sam pleaded. "This can't be it!"

Dean wasn't supposed to die! Especially not because of some crazy lunatic with a knife in the motel parking lot. Their dad had barely pulled out of the lot when it happened. It just wasn’t fair. The motel phone rang, cutting through the silence.

"Dad?" Sam pleaded as soon as he up the phone.

"Sorry, Sam. It's me," Pastor Jim replied. Jim had been his second call, after his dad had shown no sign of answering the first. Dean had been awake then. 

"Hi, Pastor Jim," Sam said. "You got my message? Are you coming? I don't know what to do," Sam's voice cracked with tears at the end of his sentence. He didn’t know what else he could do to help Dean. 

"Yes, Sam. I'm coming. I'll be about three hours. Don't worry, alright? Just try to stop his fever from rising any higher,” Jim coached. 

Sam nodded, but then he realised Pastor Jim couldn't see him. "Okay,” he answered.

He put the phone down feeling more alone than ever, even knowing that the was help on the way. He knew how much could happen in a few hours. It would only take a second for Dean to die.

Sam bit his lip nervously, alternating between pacing the room and staring down at his brother. He checked Dean's fever again. Too hot, he needed to cool down.

Almost as though the spirit could hear Sam's thoughts, a white haired youth flew down and landed lightly outside the window.

* * *

 

Jack had being flying on the air, weightless, directionless, and free of all obligations and responsibilities, cheering and soaring and tossing frost and snow wherever he pleased. A small mountain town had caught his attention when, beneath him, the wind changed, scooping him up and whisking him away as she was prone to do when she wanted him to do something. 

Jack hummed thoughtfully as he was tossed and turned through the air, a little rougher than he was used to. The wind seemed upset about something. Jack certainly hadn’t seen any sign of a storm coming, this was a new upset. Something was wrong.

The wind beneath him whooper and wailed, communicating in a wordless language that Jack had long ago become fluent in. Something was wrong with Sam. Jack didn’t mind being pulled from his day to visit his best friend, but he hoped that that was all this was. A visit. Not something worse.  

However, as soon as he dropped onto the outside sill, spotting the flash of pale skin and dark hair, he knew that something was seriously wrong. 

The winter spirit rapped his knuckles on the glass. Once. Twice. 

Sam spun around to stare, eyes darting to the salt line on the sill and to the runes that were doubtlessly left somewhere on the door. None of them could keep Jack out, but he was always glad that Sam checked them first. 

Jack was momentarily stunned by the worried and panicked look in Sam’s red-rimmed eyes. He had seen his best friend sad before, he had seen him scared, but this was something else. This was a deep terror and despair. 

Jack’s mind whirled, he wondered what had happened. Where were Sam’s brother and father? Had something happened?

Sam rushed over and opened the window for Jack to climb in the room, allowing him to ask. 

"Sam, what's wrong?" Jack said, instantly, before he finished tumbling gracelessly into the room. Immediately, he brushed his hands over Sam’s covered arms, searching for any injury. He didn’t like the look on his friend’s face. He wanted to fix it, however he could. 

"It's…" Sam pointed over to the bed that Dean lay in.

The older hunted was pale, with pink flushed cheeks, a feature that Jack was familiar with, but there was something off about it. Jack moved to the sleeping hunter, warily. He stood over Dean, who was sleeping fitfully.  

Jack kept a safe distance away, but he could feel the extreme heat radiating from the hunter. "What's wrong with him?" Jack asked.

Sam choked out a sob. "He got hurt, stabbed, and then it got infected."

"Can't you bring him to a hospital or something?" Jack wondered, glancing between the brothers helplessly. Isn’t that what people did when someone was hurt? He had seen it plenty of times. 

Sam shook his head. "No. Dad says no. Pastor Jim's coming over to help but he's hours away."

Jack looked between the two Winchesters. "What are we supposed to do?" He asked, forcing some certainty into his voice. Sam needed him calm, and he would do anything for his best friend. 

"Cool him down, I guess,” Sam said, shaking his head helplessly. 

"Cool him down?" Jack repeated in disbelief. Sam was pretty smart. Surely, he saw the obvious solution here?

Sam nodded, biting his lip, his eyes not leaving his brother. 

Jack laughed. Finally, he knew the perfect way to make Sam smile again. All he had to do was help Dean, and Jack was the perfect person to do so. "Be glad you're friends with a winter spirit, then.”

* * *

 

Pastor Jim arrived an hour and a half after Dean’s fever broke, an hour after his unwilling cuddle with the winter spirit first began. 

Pastor Jim sent Sam to sleep in the bed beside the window, allowed Sam to see the white haired teen still hovering outside. Sam smiled at Jack, who answered with a gleeful grin and a thumbs up before sliding away on the ice that he was doubtlessly creating. 

Sam fell asleep watching Jack spread frost on car windows and wondering what the sand floating in the sky was.


	7. Fights and Snowballs

Sam resisted the urge to scream as he slammed the door shut behind him. Within the motel room, John was doubtlessly pacing and storming around the room, annoyed that Sam had managed to storm out first. He didn’t even know what he and his dad had fought about this time but, as usual, it spiralled out of control.

Sam stomped away from the motel, past the point of caring that it was below freezing and he didn’t have a heavy coat on. He continued to grumble murderous nonsense under his breath, ignoring the world around him in favour of the anger within him.

It took few long minutes of walking before Sam noticed that someone had fallen into step beside him.

“Hi Jack,” he grumbled, unable to dissipate the rage within him, but unwilling to ignore the ignored spirit.

“You had a fight again?” Jack guessed, looking at Sam sadly.

Sam nodded and blinked heavily, trying to push away the tears that threatened to fall. Tears of rage and tears of sadness. Why couldn’t they just get along? Why did they always go too far? Sam sniffed. “Dean always sides with Dad, and I get so mad at him for just blindly following along. And then Dad gets mad at me even more and…” he cut himself off with a growl. “It’s all just a vicious circle!”

Jack watched, helpless. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s always been like this. Me and my dad just don’t… fit. I’m not his ‘perfect little soldier’ like Dean. Most days I don’t even think he wants me,” Sam admitted, voicing some of the thoughts that circled his head on the daily. The sort of thing that Dean didn’t - couldn’t, wouldn’t - understand.

“You know that that’s not true, Sam,” Jack argued. “Your dad loves you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Sam muttered. Unconsciously he tugged the sleeves of his shirt down so that there was no visible evidence of the bruise that was bound to form where John had snatched his wrist the first time that Sam had tried to walk away from him. “He’s always like ‘good job, Dean’ and ‘Sam, why can’t you do that? Why can’t you be more like your brother? Can’t you just stop being ‘you’ for a few minutes?’”

Sam stopped walked and slumped against the wall of a gas station, making eye contact with the spirit. “Sometimes I think he _hates_ me,” he admitted

Jack leaned against the wall beside Sam, ignoring the usual spread of frost that spiralled and formed wherever his body touched stone. “Why do you think that?” Jack wondered, his eyes shining with worry.

Sam sighed, and let his head thump back against the wall. “All I’ve ever been told about my mom is that she died in _my_ room. And Dad and Dean won’t talk about her. I think Dad blames me for… I dunno, living? I think he wishes that I died and she survived instead.”

Jack didn’t have an answer to that. He doubted that anyone would be happier if Sam weren’t in the world, he certainly wouldn’t be. He rubbed a hand up and down Sam’s arm, trying to offer some physical comfort even if it made Sam’s shiver. He thought back to the days when all it took was a snowball to make Sam laugh.

A grin spread across his face. “You know what always makes me feel better?”

Sam shook his head, his usual curiosity and interest easily visible in his eyes.

Jack grinned even wider and leaned into the young hunter’s personal space, like he was about to tell him a secret. “Starting snowball fights!” He cheered.

Sam just managed to hide his grin. “I noticed. I think that’s all you do. You being about to spread the snow is just a happy coincidence.”

Jack shrugged. He couldn’t deny that. Snowball fights spread the snow much quicker anyway. "C'mon, there's a park around here. I'm gonna show you where the most fun possible can be had."

The winter spirit grabbed Sam's jacket covered arm and ran towards the park with Sam being pulled along behind. Sam was laughing too hard to care or notice what they must look like with him being dragged along by an invisible creature.

* * *

 

"Bye!" Jack called as the children were brought back to their homes by cold parents.

He spin and grinned at Sam, who smiled back at him, rosy cheeked and shivering, but grinning like it was the happiest he had ever been.

"Bye Sam, bye Jack Frost!" Children yelled, waving as Sam and Jack laughed and waved back.

One of the good things about being older than the other children was that they believed everything he said. When he said Jack Frost wanted to play with them and was standing beside him, then Jack Frost wanted to play with them and was standing beside him.

The only bad thing was that the parents just thought that some teenager was pulling a prank on their kids and told them that there was no such thing as Jack Frost. But Jack still felt it was nice to be believed in for an hour or two.

"SAM!" Came John's angry shout.

Sam sighed, and Jack watched his shoulders slump. He trudged over to his dad who was glaring at him.

Before he reached John, Sam glanced back and smiled at Jack.

As John marched Sam back to the motel he was abruptly hit in the back by a snowball. He spun and scanned the area to see who had thrown it. He didn't see anything, but when Sam looked, he saw Jack bent over with laughter. He bit back a smile as Jack met his gaze.

"What are you looking at?" John demanded, irritated. He reached behind him and fiddled with his hood, trying to knock off the excess snow, which seemed stuck to him as though by magic.

Sam shook his head, amused. "I'm looking at Jack Frost, sir." Sam said, barely containing his glee.

"That's not funny, Sam,” John grit out.

"He seems to think so," Sam replied, shaking with barely contained laughter.

John growled, actually growled, and stalked off to the motel. Sam bit his lip and skipped behind his dad with a huge grin.

Jack watched with his own grin. But it slowly slipped as night fell and he was left all by himself, with only his friend’s laughter ringing in his ears.

He looked up at the moon above him with a glare.

"You know, Sam's dad ignores him – what're you gonna do about that? Nothing, probably. You ignore me."

Jack looked away from the silvery orb in the sky. He examined the snow surrounding him. What to do now?

He grinned, a new idea forming in his head. Snow angels!


	8. Insomnia and Bullying

Sam sat on the on ground, shoulders and back hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees, determinedly staring into space and ignoring the shouting from into the motel room coming from his dad and Bobby.

Jack was a comfortable, if not freezing, presence at Sam’s side, offering silent support while they waited for the chaos to end. Jack was covering his ears and drawing frost patterns with his toes. It wasn’t like they could talk to each other with the shouting going on through the wall at their back.

The other people staying at the motel would either glare at their door or would keep their distance. Some people would smile sadly or sympathetically at Sam, but no one tried to intervene in the argument between the two older hunters from inside the room.

This particular motel was a small, roadside building. Doubtlessly it saw a lot of arguments and shouting. People didn’t come to this place for a nice family holiday.

Sam let his eyes flick down to his watch with a sigh. They had been arguing for almost an hour and a half without stop. It was almost impressive.

He shot a look at the door, chewing on his bottom lip worriedly. He was concerned that either his dad or Bobby would grab a shotgun and shoot at the other. Even if no one was hurt, they would have to run out of another town to escape the authorities that would probably be called. You never knew in a place like this.

Sam considered calling Dean for a brief moment. He might be able to talk some sense into John over the phone, but Sam dismissed that idea before he had even begun to fully form it. Dean was probably every busy with his own hunt. And, if he was entirely honest with himself, Sam knew, deep down, that calling Dean would make this just one more thing that Dean could do that he couldn’t.

Jack glanced over at his friend and slowly pulled his hands from his ears, noticing that Sam wasn’t ignoring the shouting anymore. He wondered if one of the hunters had killed the other.

But, no, if anything the shouting was even louder now.

The motel room door abruptly slammed open, making both of the teenagers jump. John strode out of the room, fuming. He was about to slam the door shut when he spotted Sam sitting on the ground outside. He left the door open a sliver and stared down at Sam, open mouthed. John looked regretful and sheepish for a moment. Sam wondered for a moment if his dad was going to apologise. John closed his mouth with a snap and stalked off, away from the motel room.

Sam rose to his feet slowly. Stretching out his tense muscles after sitting in the same place for so long. Jack jumped to his feet much quicker, being used to the cold and stillness. The pair shared a look before the crept into the room together.

Bobby glanced up from his overflowing duffle as they entered. “Sorry about that, boys,” he apologised.

Jack dropped down onto the closest bed, the springs creaking loudly even with Jack’s slight weight. Sam remained standing by the door and crossed his arms, rubbing stiff hands up and down them to try get back some warmth into his skin.

“I thought you two were going to kill each other,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed. “It got a little loud. More than a little.”

Sam nodded, flicking his gaze across the room, picking out where clothes and furniture had been thrown and kicked. His gaze fell on the winter spirit who had flopped down onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Are you alright, Jack?”

Jack only hummed in response.

“Jack?” Sam tried again.

“Something wrong, Jack?” Bobby asked.

The spirit sighed. “You’re fight. The other spirit’s are fighting. Everyone’s fighting. And no one will talk to anyone,” he huffed. “Everyone is angry at everyone. And they’ve all yelled at me.”

Bobby hummed and moved closer to the spirit. “Why are they fighting?” He asked, gently.

Sam thought, not for the first time, that Bobby would have made a much better father than his dad did. He wondered why the older man had never had kids. He was good with them.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, I don't really care. I just make snow. And cold."

“Jack, are these spirits… do you - are they bullying you?” Sam stuttered.

Jack slumped. “I’ve tried to keep out of their way, I haven’t even broken into the North Pole for months, but everyone’s still mad at me.”

“We’re not mad at you,” Bobby reminded him.

Jack propped himself up on his elbows to stare at the two hunters who believed in him, who liked him. A small smile tugged at his lips. At least he had some people who liked to have him around.

Sam dropped down on the bed beside his best friend. He nudged Jack with his shoulder and smiled. Bobby watched the pair with a half smile before he began to toss his weapons and his clothes more neatly into his duffle. He wanted to leave early tomorrow and he wanted to be ready.

He dropped his bag on the small lump couch in the corner of the room, where Sam had been sleeping for the past few days. “You take my bed,” he insisted of the two teens.

Sam considered arguing for a minute, but he caught the deliberate glance at Jack that Bobby sent him. The normally energetic spirit looked increasingly ragged. The bullying from the other spirits must have gotten to him, Sam decided.

He sighed and lay down in the bed next to Jack. On the rare occasions that Jack had stayed over with Sam, he always slept on top of the covers and faced Sam. Now Jack was staring at the ceiling looking lost in his thoughts. He wasn’t used to seeing the spirit so pensive.

Sam lightly poked him in the ribs. "Goodnight Jack,” he said, quietly.

"Night," Jack replied distractedly.

Sam frowned at the spirit's lack of response, but he figured Jack would sleep soon.

* * *

 

Jack startled when he heard a noise from outside the window. He hadn't been sleeping but the noise had knocked him out of his daze. He heard the noise again which proved he hadn't imagined it.

He glanced at Sam, relieved to see the young hunter still sleeping.

Jack slipped off the bed and crept to the door. He grabbed his staff as he walked and cautiously opened the door. He pointed the staff at the person - a spirit, Jack realised instantly – but faltered slightly when the spirit smiled at him. The autumn spirit. An older boy dressed in browns, greens and reds.

“Get some sleep, Jack. The others won’t bother you tonight,” the older spirit promised.

A small breeze picked up and ruffled Jack's hair, as though the Wind agreed with Jack's almost, kind of, maybe, friend.

"Go," the spirit insisted, kind and gentle. "They won't get past me." A second breeze picked up, making the spirit chuckle. "Or the Wind,” he added, bemused.

Jack nodded slightly and slunk back into the room. It was a relief that he would finally be able to sleep. Ever since he had become the unofficial whipping boy in the spirit world he hadn't gotten any sleep. He had been beaten up too many times to even think about letting his guard down that much. But with the autumn spirit and the Wind watching his back he was confident in catching a few peaceful hours of sleep.

He laid down on the bed beside the sleeping hunter and for the first time in almost a month Jack Frost slept.


	9. A Misunderstanding

It was a cold, Friday morning and Sam was waiting for the bell to signal that he should go to class.

"I'm telling you Sam," Ross said, excitedly. "There is something out in the forest and we're going to find it!"

Steven, the other creator of Ross' crazy scheme, nodded enthusiastically.

Sam stared at the pair like they were crazy, which they were. What lunatics went out to a forest where a dozen or, so people had been turned to ice and frozen to death?

He knew what was in that forest. It was an angry poltergeist that had been drowned in a frozen lake. His dad and Dean were having trouble with this hunt because they weren't even sure if there was a body anymore. It could still be at the bottom of the frozen lake for all they knew.

"What do you think this _thing_ is, then?" Sam asked trying not to let his voice betray how angry and annoyed he was with the two boys he had accidentally made friends with. In his defence, they had seemed perfectly normal when he first met them.

It really annoyed him that they were trying to get trapped in a world where there was no escape. Once you saw the supernatural it never left you alone.

"Jack Frost!" Steven said.

Sam smiled internally at the mention of his best friend. They were almost always together during the winter months. Sam never doubted the winter spirit, but now he had to worry about too morons who were trying to die years before their time.

Sam shared a look with Rachel, his other friend who actually was normal. "Jack Frost isn't real." He told the pair. "No of it is real. There is no Santa, or Easter bunny or tooth fairy. Ghosts aren't real, vampires aren't real, werewolves aren't real. The weather is cold, people are freezing to death. It's sad, but not supernatural."

Steven and Ross frowned. "Really?" Ross asked dejectedly.

"Really," Sam insisted.

The bell rang loudly through the school.

"C'mon we've got to get to class." Rachel said pulling Ross away to geography while Sam began dragging Steven to history.

No one noticed the heartbroken Jack Frost standing outside the open window.

* * *

 

Sam waved goodbye to Rachel, Ross and Steven as they continued on, to their own houses. He started walked his own way to the abandoned house that his family were staying in.

Sam was very surprised when he saw the state of the house. Frost covered the windows and snow was piled up around the driveway and front door. This wouldn't be too unusual, but it hadn't snowed in several weeks.

Sam dug his keys out from his jeans pocket and opened the door cautiously and peered in.

"Jack?" He called out. "Is it you?" The winter spirit hadn't talked to him in a few weeks and he didn't seem to want to break that streak just yet.

For one second Sam worried that the poltergeist had somehow gotten into the house. The house was freezing. It was even colder inside than out. Sam regretted not bringing a jacket to school so he could put it on now.

Sam kept his back to the walls as he skirted along towards the fireplace to grab the fire pokers there. He really hoped they were iron.

"Jack? Please, tell me it's you?" He shouted.

A quiet sniffle caught Sam's attention. "Jack?" he called.

A white-haired head poked through the door from the kitchen. They stared at each other, unblinking, for a long time until Sam looked away.

"What's up Jack?" Sam asked. "You froze the house."

Jack glared at him in what Sam guessed was anger. The frozen tears in his eyes ruined the effect slightly. "As if you don't know," Jack snarled.

Sam blinked at the menace in Jack's tone. "What?" he asked quietly not sure what he had done to make Jack mad at him.

"I heard you this morning," Jack said simply.

"This morning… oh _no,_ " Sam finally realised. "Jack is was just… they were…" Sam trailed off with a sigh. "Those guys were idiots, they might have gotten themselves killed. I was trying to convince them not to go off into the forest after the poltergeist!"

Jack didn't answer. He looked away from Sam and crossed his arms.

"Jack, of course you're real. I know you're real! You're my best friend. I believe in you more than I believe in anything else! I just don't want other kids to die when I can stop them. You wouldn't want them to die because they were looking for you, would you?"

Jack looked at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"Winter may kill, Jack, but you don't."

Jack's shoulders slumped, and he sighed. They stared at each other a little helplessly.

"C'mon," Sam decided. "We need an excuse for all that snow before my dad and Dean come back."


	10. Nightmares

Sam stared at the black and white movie playing on the tv screen. It was one he had seen thousands of times, yet it still remained unmemorable. He had finished all his homework hours ago. There was a raging snowstorm outside and he wasn't willing to brave it to go farther than the gas station.

Sam sprawled out on the biggest bed in the motel room. The excitement of getting the bed to himself had worn off after a day or two alone.

Dean had promised to be back tomorrow, but Sam knew how difficult he had found this hunt, so he wasn't going to hold his breath. His dad hadn't even given him a day when he would be back, but Sam wasn't expecting it. They had been fighting a lot nowadays. Much more than normal.

Sam didn't know what was wrong with his dad. Sure, he didn't want to hunt anymore, and he wanted a real life, but what was so wrong with that? It wasn't even like his dad knew that Sam could leave this life.

He hadn't looked at any of his homework or a single test since Sam was eleven years old. Dean was always proud of him, but he didn't care about school. Jack didn't really get what most of his tests were about, but he still congratulated him. He helped him get an A on his history essay on WWI since he had seen it.

His dad didn't know that he had applied to several colleges. Neither did Dean. Jack did though. Jack even tracked down his lost applications for him.

Sam sighed heavily as he listened to the wind howl outside the door. At least Jack was having fun tonight. He turned to stare at the window when there was a loud tapping sound. Jack was tapping his staff against the glass.

He grinned and waved which managed to pull a laugh from Sam. Jack looked so out of place, jumping up and down happily in the middle of a snowstorm.

Jack pulled faces and pressed his face up to the window. Sam found his own boredom and sadness dissolve as Jack infected him with his happiness.

The winter spirit’s duties weren’t over however and soon he waved goodbye and Sam's smile became a little sadder as he watched Jack be plucked up and away by the wind.

* * *

 

The dream was unusual. One the main aspects of this being that Sam knew he was dreaming.

He found himself in an empty town. The buildings were all empty and derelict. A feeling of foreboding was heavy in the air. Although nothing seemed wrong in the dream, Sam found himself desperately wishing he would wake up. Cold seeped into his body and made him shiver.

Sam tried to tell himself that it was just a dream and that he was fine but when he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out. His feet started moving against his will.

Sam screamed internally at himself to stop walking and to wake up, but he couldn't make a single sound. The street his body was walking on seemed to be never-ending.

Sam began to struggle, screaming and crying. He tried to stop moving or turn around, but his body didn't change direction. The pain in his head began to intensify as a result from his screams reverberating around his skull.

Suddenly, Sam noticed he wasn't alone. It wasn't that he hadn't seen them before, rather that they hadn't been there before.

People, men, women, children, lined the streets. All of them with glaring yellow eyes.

Sam started screaming for help, his dad, Dean, Jack, anyone.

Instead of helping, the people, much to Sam's horror, began to turn into yellow eyed clowns. All of them grinning madly with too sharp teeth. They started chanting his name.

Sam started crying then. He was trapped in a nightmare.

Sam kept walking until he found himself standing in front of two dark figures. One had yellow eyes and was grinning like the clown people. However Sam found himself more scared of the other figure who was smiling gently, almost kindly, at him. There was something vicious in that smile.

Sam suddenly found that he couldn't breathe. He tried desperately to suck in a breath. He clawed at his throat, but he couldn't find anything that was restricting his breathing. The pain in his head was overwhelming. Sam couldn't tell if it was the pain or the lack of oxygen that was making his vision swim. Darkness invaded his vision and a loud ringing overtook all other sound.

When the darkness had taken over everything he could see, the ringing faded. Sam could hear his name being screamed. But he couldn't answer because he still couldn't breathe. A pair of yellow eyes appeared in the darkness and Sam knew he would have screamed if he had any more oxygen.

"SAM!" His name was shouted once more.

Jack. Jack was shouting for him. Sam wanted to answer, he wanted to beg for help but he couldn’t.

* * *

 

Jack flew around the swirling snow storm happily. It was beginning to calm down now and Jack was confident that it would slow and stop itself.

He flew down to the motel window of Sam's room. Jack peered into view with a smile that quickly turned into a look over horror.

A dark shadow was on top of Sam.

"Hey!" Jack shouted slamming a hand against the glass.

The creature didn't flinch.

The Wind gave Jack his only warning. He spun around to see that he was surrounded by several of those shadow creature things.

The Wind had picked up one of them and hurtled it away.

Jack glanced back in the window at Sam before he grabbed his staff and aimed it at the nightmares. The Wind picked up around them, ready to fight beside Jack.

The nightmares moved first. As a group they flew at Jack suddenly. Jack ducked down, and he heard as the glass shattered behind him. He didn't hesitate.

Jack dove into the room and started throwing blasts of ice and snow at the shadowy things. The Wind reached into the room and threw the nightmares far away from her Jack.

Jack dodged the balls of what looked like black sand. He didn't want to know what happened if he touched them.

Sam was screaming and gasping on the bed beside Jack, but he couldn't do anything for him just yet. Even if it was killing him to listen to his best friend screaming in fear and pain.

Seemingly sensing this the Wind pushed Jack back towards Sam and started throwing and blowing the nightmares.

"SAM!"

Jack aimed a blast of ice at the creature hovering over Sam. It was thrown at the wall so hard that it left a dent. He smiled in satisfaction. Jack jumped up on the bed and crouched protectively over Sam. It seemed the creature's influence hadn't left Sam yet. He was still screaming.

"Sam!" Jack shouted. Sam's face was pale, but his lips were blue and in-between screams Sam was gasping for air that he couldn't seem to get. Jack pressed his hands to the sides of his face to make him face him. "Sam! Sam, breathe!"

Jack pressed his hands-on Sam's chest. "Breathe!" he shouted again, tears freezing as they fell from his eyes.

Suddenly Jack felt one of his ice shards stabs through his shoulders. He screamed. Jack grabbed his staff and stood. He swung his staff in an arc as ice flung out and impaled each one of the nightmares. They turned to black sand before disappearing.

Jack turned back to Sam, not caring about the nightmares. "Sam. Breathe!" He slapped Sam's chest in an attempt to make him breathe.

Jack sobbed as Sam didn't breathe. He sucked in a deep breath and crouched down over Sam's face. Jack breathed into Sam, hoping that it would make the younger hunter follow.

Jack sobbed out a laugh as Sam started to breathe again. He laughed so hard he wasn't sure he could stop. Jack pressed his face into Sam's chest as he started sobbing uncontrollably.

Blood coated his hoodie from the stab wound in his shoulder, but Jack couldn't bring himself to care.

The Wind blew gently against his back, probably trying to get his attention. But Jack couldn't give it to her. He felt her sigh and pull back to allow him to break down.

The Wind scooped up the remains of all those nasty nightmares. She flung them away from her boys. The Wind picked up each broken shard of glass and placed them in the window knowing that the cracked window would be blamed on the storm or the chilly weather.

She blew warm air at Sam's chilled face in the hopes of rousing the hunter. Jack needed help and she couldn't give it to him. Sam groaned as he started to come around and the Wind was satisfied. She encircled Jack in her own version of a hug before stepping away from the pair.

Sam would just have to handle this.

 

* * *

 

Sam finished off the last stitch in Jack's shoulder and he hid his shaking hands. He hadn't been able to stop shaking since the nightmare.

His headache was slow to fade, but Sam was able to work through it.

"What happened?" Sam asked finally gaining the courage to speak up.

He had woken up to find the motel room filled with ice and snow and black slush. The window was cracked, and the wall was dented. Jack had been lying on top of him in the middle of a breakdown and his chest had ached as though someone had hit him.

The effects of the nightmare had not properly left him yet. He was still shaking and sweating but having to focus on Jack's bleeding shoulder had helped significantly.

Sam had thrown Jack's bloodied hoodie into the washing machine that was at the end of the motel corridor. He drew the curtains and put on the tv to make some noise in the silence between Jack's pained grunts as he stitched his shoulder. But now Sam felt he was ready to hear what had happened.

"Nightmares," Jack told him.

"What?" Sam asked.

"They work for Pitch, he is the spirit of fear and darkness."

"And nightmares," Sam finished. "Why did he – they, the nightmares – come here?"

"I have no idea," Jack admitted. "I've never seen them do that before."

Sam shuddered. "Glad to be an exception,” he muttered, sarcastically. "C'mon let's watch the tv."

"What was it about?" Jack asked several minutes later.

"Huh?" Sam asked, feigning ignorance.

"Your nightmare," Jack clarified. "What was it about?"

"I… I dunno," Sam admitted truthfully. "I mean there was the Yellow Eyed Demon, lots of them, and clowns… but… there was this… guy."

"Guy?" Jack wondered at the way Sam had sounded so unsure. Surely a guy was a guy? What else could he be?

"Well, he looked like a guy but…" Sam shook himself. "He seemed so _evil_ , but he looked so kind next to all the demons. He was smiling but it made me feel all cold inside."

"You ever seen him before?" Jack asked. "Maybe on a hunt."

"No. I've never seen the town I was in either."

"It was just a nightmare," Jack assured Sam, patting him on leg.

"Yeah." Sam agreed absently. "Just a nightmare."


	11. School Holidays

"If you walk out that door, don't you come back!"

Sam stopped. He stared at the cracked paint of the motel door. Could his dad really mean that? It was only college, he wasn't leaving them behind. He was only leaving this life. But then, they were this life.

Sam exhaled heavily.

He turned back to stare at his father, red in the face and furious, but desperate too. Dean was standing off to the side, he looked scared and upset. Well, Sam decided, if he didn't want him to leave he should have said something. Sam stared at them both for a moment to try commit their faces to memory.

"Goodbye Dad, goodbye Dean." Sam walked out the door.

"You've really left," Jack whispered.

"Yep," Sam replied casting one last look at the motel. He stroked the hood of the Impala as he passed the car. "Maybe for good."

"For good!?" Jack spluttered as he jogged to keep up with the taller teenager.

"Yeah," Sam admitted sadly, stopping for a second before he lengthened his stride. "My dad," he offered as an explanation.

"So you're just leaving? Without giving a goodbye?"

"Well, he didn't give me much choice!" Sam cried turning to stare down the spirit.

Jack smiled bitterly. "Who said I was talking about them?"

Sam sighed and slumped into himself. "I'm not saying goodbye to you, ever,” he swore.

"California, Sam. I'll melt."

"I don't care," Sam shrugged. "I'll go to Antarctica if I have to."

Jack smiled slightly. "You don't have to go to Antarctica,” he muttered.

"Good." Sam laughed. "I've never left the country before,” he admitted.

"I've only been to cold places," Jack replied, with a quiet chuckle.

Sam smiled sadly and stared at the winter spirit. "It's not goodbye," he insisted.

"It feels like it."

"It's see you soon, not goodbye," Sam promised.

The Wind picked up around them. Maybe agreeing or disagreeing, Sam couldn't tell. He had never been able to even gain a vague understanding of her language. And yes, the Wind was a she – according to Jack.

"Do you want me to walk you to the bus stop?" Jack asked after a minute of silence

Sam nodded with a grateful smile.

At least he wouldn't be entirely alone now.

* * *

 

The Wind gently lowered Jack to the ground beside the bus just in time for him to hear the driver announce, "I'm sorry everyone, but there has been an accident up ahead so we're going to spend the night here."

There was a collective groan from occupants of the bus but they all shuffled out of the bus and towards the shabby motel they would be staying in.

Sam smiled discreetly at Jack.

Jack slipped over to Sam where he kept to the back of the group. "So, cleansing ritual?" Jack guessed.

"Cleansing ritual," Sam agreed. "Good job on that accident. No deaths?"

"None, and thanks! How many deaths in this motel?"

"Tons," Sam answered. "No bodies were ever recovered, I'm hoping it's a spirit,” he yawned.

"You, sleep," Jack ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. "You need to be able to finish that paper due next month, never mind stopping our Christmas spirit. Sleep, and I'll scope out the place."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm being mothered by a tiny teenager."

A breeze tickled the back of his neck. Sam clapped a hand over the spot. "And the Wind,” he muttered, hearing her whistle in agreement.

"You finally speak wind!" Jack giggled.

"There are breezes in California."

Jack smiled and flew off to search the surrounding areas. Every break Sam had, they went out, together, and stopped some of those legendary spirits. "They are hurting children" had been what Jack had told Sam with tears falling down his cheeks and Sam hadn't been able to say no to those lonely eyes.

* * *

 

_An hour later._

Sam dropped to his knees in the snow, the shrill screaming drowning out the hypnotic melody that had lured him far away from the motel. No, not screaming – wailing.

The wailing stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

Sam panted into the ground as he tried to work through the pain from his ears drums.

"You were supposed to sleep, you know," Jack frowned, crouching down beside his friend.

"I tried," Sam argued weakly. "But then…" he trailed off, unable to remember.

"Baobhan Sith. A blood-sucking fairy, Scottish in origin. Similar to a vampire, or a seductress – nothing, however, like a Banshee."

Both turned to the voice. A beautiful woman was sprawled in the low hanging branches of an oak tree. She smiled warmly at them. "Sorry about the screaming by the way."

"You're a Banshee," Jack guessed.

She nodded with a smile. "I follow the dead, soon to be dead or the mourning. You two, however, are none of these things." She stared at Jack searchingly. "Well, not really."

"A Baobhan Sith," Sam muttered quietly. "How do we kill it?"

"Her,” the banshee corrected. "And you don't, the sun does. Like I said before she is similar to a vampire. In mythology only – vampires are fine in sunlight."

"If you know all this why couldn't you stop her? Or tell us? And not destroy my eardrums," Sam ground out pressing the palms of his hands into the damaged appendages.

The Banshee glared, and Sam felt himself shrink back from the intensity of her glare. "Who are you to question fate? Those men and women were meant to die. And I am a part of the natural cycle, I cannot change what is meant to be!"

A strong gust of wind blew at the banshee at which she took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. "Wind," she muttered in greeting.

"If you don't mind me asking," Jack began cautiously, not wanting to anger the banshee. "Then why did you help us, eh, Sam. You stopped him from walking straight to the Baobhan Sith – thanks, by the way – why?"

The Banshee smiled. "Neither of you are meant to die in today."

"How do we stop it – her?" Sam asked climbing, unsteadily, to his feet.

The Banshee turned to Jack. "You are winter, are you not, Spirit?"

Jack stared. "I'm just supposed to freeze her? Won't it melt in -"

"-In the sun, yes. And so will she."

"How do we get her here?" Sam asked.

Jack suddenly gasped in horror. "No!" he shouted.

The Banshee continued to smile. "Like I said, neither or you will die tonight."

"Maybe not tonight but when the sun rises…" Jack trailed off, glaring at the Banshee.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Blood-sucking fairy, Sam. Vampire. She wants you to bleed."

"It will keep her still long enough for you to freeze her," the banshee stated.

"How can we trust you?" Sam demanded.

"I saved your life,” the Banshee cried out in outrage.

"Vampires can't enter properties without permission, maybe they can't drink blood without permission – and you're just tricking me."

The Banshee moved with lightning speed and grabbed Sam by the neck, her beautiful exterior gone. Her fingers were long and bony and looked dead, much like the rest of her. Except her eyes, which were ablaze with fury.

"Listen, Hunter. I'm protecting the balance, and I'm saving your life. Do you have any idea the bounty on your head, hmm Winchester?"

Sam swallowed nervously.

"Hey!" Jack shouted. "Stand back,” he ordered pointing his staff at the Banshee. "I don't care if you do protect the balance, I'll kill you right here."

The Wind began pulling at the Banshee's clothes fiercely.

The Banshee removed her hand from Sam's neck leaving a deathly pale impression in its place. "Such loyalty, and friendship," she noted. "You'll need that,” she added to Sam who just gasped for breath and stared at her.

"How am I supposed to bleed?" Sam croaked, eyeing the now hideous banshee.

The Banshee reached into her cloak and removing a long silver comb with an overly sharp handle.

"How sharp does a _comb_ need to be!?" Sam asked stepping back, afraid she would try to hurt him.

The Banshee chuckled, her appearance gaining some more life. "Sharp enough to kill me."

Sam reached out to take the comb when she held it out for him.

"Wait!" Jack shouted. "You're not supposed to take a Banshee's comb, she'll curse you."

"Normally yes,” the banshee agreed, easily. Sam pulled back his hand. "But,” the Banshee went on, “this Baobhan Sith has been a thorn in my side since we first crossed paths. And anyway, you're already cursed, sweetheart,” the Banshee said to Sam, almost sadly. She brushed her long fingers against his cheek and pressed her comb into his chilled hand.

"It will be daylight soon,” she noted. "Now would be a good time."

Sam sighed. He pressed the sharp end of the comb into the palm of his hand. He grunted in pain. Sam took a deep breath and dragged the comb across his palm leaving a deep gash there. "Hide!" He told Jack, who was staring in horror.

Sam curled his hand into a fist making blood drip down on the plain snow. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, waiting for the Baobhan Sith to appear.

Sam would never remember what happened next entirely, but he remembered parts of it.

Something strong and fast, tackling him to the ground. Pain erupting in his neck. Cold seeping into him. Someone screaming his name. Cold hands touching him. Someone panicking and pleading. Then screaming.

* * *

 

Jack wasn't sure which was faster the Banshee or the Baobhan Sith. But he was pretty fast himself.

"Sam!" He yelled, pulling the unconscious and heavily bleeding hunter away from the frozen fairy vampire. "Sam!" Jack grabbed Sam's face and checked for any reaction. "Oh no." Jack muttered. "Sam, please. Wake up." Jack turned to the Banshee. "He needs help."

"Allow me." The Banshee said with a gentle smile. she looked like a beautiful young woman again. Her clothes which had previously been a long white dress and cloak turned into faded jeans, converse and a thick hoodie. A white scarf was wrapped around her neck. "Wind, please clear the way. Spirit," she turned to Jack, "hide the Baobhan Sith. And cover your ears."

Then she screamed.

* * *

 

When Sam came to, he was in a comfortable bed with something beeping near his head.

A warm hand wrapped around his own. "Hunter."

Sam turned and blinked as he saw the blurry form of the Banshee.

"You don't remember what happened. You don't know me. You found yourself in the woods. Then you woke up here. That's all you have to tell them."

Sam blinked again as she turned clear. "Jack?" he croaked.

"He's fine. He waiting outside, he didn't want to freeze the room."

"Where?"

"You're in a nursing home. It was the closest thing to a hospital around."

Sam blinked at the ceiling. "Okay?"

"Yes, you're fine. You lost a lot of blood, but you'll be fine." Suddenly, she grinned. "I told you, you would be fine."

"Miss, do you – oh, you're awake! I'll fetch the doctor." The nurse rushed off.

The Banshee groaned. "No, privacy here. I have to go but first, Hunter, look at me."

Sam stated at the woman.

"Be careful, Sam Winchester. You are living in the calm before the storm. And in that storm, you will need all the friends you can get." With that she stood up and left.

Sam blinked as he tried to digest that statement. He raised a hand and probed the bandages on his neck.

"Don't do that!" the nurse chided hurrying into the room, with a doctor close behind. She grabbed Sam's hand. Unfortunately, it was his injured hand, a growl crawled from his throat.

"I'll take it from here,” the doctor said, pushing the nurse out of the room. "I'm sorry, she's new. Now, would you be able to tell me your name?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Sam Winchester."

"Right, Sam. Do you have anyone for us to call?"

"No," Sam replied sadly. "They… they wouldn't come anyway."

 


	12. Homecomings

Sam had first bumped into her when she had been rushing to one of her classes. They collided, and her books and his folders had fallen to the ground while they both sprawled, stunned, on the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” The blonde gushed, casting him a worried glance as she began to gather up her books.

“Uh,” Sam responded, baffled. “It’s alright,” he assured. “It was an accident. Are you alright?” He wondered, gratefully taking a folder that she offered out to him.

The blonde nodded rapidly, her hair falling forward and covering her face. She was beautiful. “Yeah, sorry. It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she admitted. Then she let out a nervous giggle, slowly rising to her feet as he did the same. “I’m Jess – Jessica,” she said, shyly.

In all his months at Stanford, Sam hadn’t succeeded in making more than a small handful of friends, and none outside of his course. He was out of practice at talking to new people, especially so with such a beautiful one. “Sam,” he stuttered, suddenly feeling incredibly shy himself.

“Sam,” Jess repeated quietly, before she startled and glanced down at her watch. “Damn!” She cursed. She looked back up at Sam apologetically. “Sorry again, Sam. I’ve got to go.”

Sam nodded. “Uh, yeah. Don’t let me keep you. Uh, good luck in getting to class,” he said, lamely.

Luckily, Jess giggled again. “You too. See you later!” She called over her shoulder as she hurried off again, flashing him a grin.

Sam found himself returning it, only to shake his head at himself and head back to his dorm room. He had another few hours before his next class. He needed to drop off his stuff and try get that essay started, not stand staring after some girl for hours.

* * *

 

Sam kept his back to the wall as he watched people flock through the crowded bar. He smiled and nodded and made occasional small talk with the few people he knew, but, generally, he stayed alone and silent, until, of course, his roommate sauntered over.

“Sam,” Tyson Brady whined, sauntering over to him, throwing out his arms at the many people around them. “What did you promise me?”

Sam sighed. “I promised that I’d talk to someone,” he recited.

“Exactly!” Brady said, before Sam could say something in his own defence. “I have decided that it is my sworn duty to get you a girlfriend and, lucky for you, I’ve found a certain blue-eyed blonde lurking at this very party.” He wrapped an arm around Sam’s back and started propelling him towards the middle of the crowd.

Sam froze, his brain stumbling over those words before he got it together enough to struggle. “No, no, no, Brady!” He protested. “I can’t just  _ talk  _ to her.”

“Sure you can,” Brady chirped. “You stole her book from her, didn’t you? Just offer it back.”

Sam spluttered. “I didn’t steal it!” He protested. “She accidentally left it in my pile of folders.”

“Well,” Brady shrugged. “As a lawyer, I’m sure you’ll have no problem convincing her of that.”

“It’s the truth,” Sam argued, but he stopped protesting and allowed himself to be propelled forward toward the blonde that he could now see standing in the middle of the room.

She spotted him and smiled, flashing bright, white teeth. Sam found himself automatically smiling back. Oh God, she was gorgeous.

“Hi,” he breathed when they were within hearing distance.

“Hi,” she answered, grinning brighter.

“Uh, I’m Sam,” he offered.

Jess nodded. “I remember.”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled. “I have your book. You must have dropped in it my stuff,” he explained. “If… ugh… if you want…” he began to suggest coming back to his dorm, but Jess cut him off before he could even finish.

“I’d love to,” she said grinning and pulling her handbag over her shoulder. “Shall we?”

* * *

 

Sam woke up with a smile on his face. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was greeted by Jess’ adoring expression. “Morning,” he croaked.

“Morning,” she hummed. She brushed a hand across his cheek. “So pretty,” she murmured.

Sam chuckled. “You’re perfect.”

Jess blinked up at him. “Why won’t you tell me anything about your family?” She wondered.

Sam tensed. He knew that, based on the growing frown on her face, she could feel him shutting down. She had accused him of doing it during many of their arguments. “I just… I don’t want to talk about them. I walked out on them, and they let me go. My dad, he said…” Sam shook his head. “I’ll probably never see them again. I don’t even know where they are – they know where I am.”

Jess sighed. “Sam,” she said softly. “I don’t want to start a fight, I just…” she sighed again. “It’s Christmas break. I’m going to go back home to visit my parents. They’d like to meet you.”

* * *

 

Jack offered Sam a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry Sam," Jack shrugged. "You're on your own."

Sam would have glared at Jack. But Jessica was staring at him as though he had suggested they run barefoot in the snow.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Jess demanded, equally concerned and annoyed. She had come outside in just one of Sam's hoodies, her pyjama bottoms and Sam's boots. She looked very cold, which Sam understood perfectly. It was winter, in Minnesota.

"Um…" Sam stalled. "Nothing?" He said, making it sound like a question.

"I heard, and saw, you talking to someone," Jessica responded, crossing her arms with a huff.

"I was…" Sam glanced at Jack who just shrugged once more. "I was talking to Jack Frost." He admitted, frowning at how crazy he sounded.

Jessica glared at him. "If you don't want to go out with me you don't have to pretend to be insane!" She turned and stalked back to the house. "You could have mentioned it before meeting my parents!"

"Jess! Wait!" Sam called. He quickly caught up with her and he wrapped his arms around her to stop her from running off.

"I know it sounds crazy," Sam admitted over Jessica's loud protests. "But Jack Frost is real – you just have to believe in him to be able to see him."

"Sam, you clearly need help. There is no such thing as Jack Frost, you need to grow up. It's just your superstitious nonsense!" Jessica argued, elbowing Sam and escaping from his hold.

Sam looked helplessly at Jack. "Please, I can't lose her!" he begged the spirit quietly. "Jess!" Sam shouted at her back. "Please, I love you!"

Jessica stopped, and Sam heard her suck in a deep breath. She turned and stared back at him with an expression he couldn't decipher. "Sam?" She whispered, angry, upset and unsure.

"I do,” he insisted stepping closer to Jessica. "I love you. Even if you don't believe me, I can't lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either but…" Jessica trailed off.

Snowflakes had started to swirl around them both, in Jack's attempt at a romantic setting. Jessica was staring at them with a look of awe. The snow was only around them, everywhere else was clear.

Sam smiled at her face. Something cold was suddenly shoved into his hands.

He looked over at Jack who gestured for him to give it to Jessica.

Sam held out the perfectly carved, ice heart for her.

"Oh, Sam. How…?" She wondered. She looked at the heart, then at him.

"Jack Frost,” he said, simply, trying to convey how certain and real it was.

Jessica gasped and stepped back as she noticed Jack standing at his side. "Jack Frost?" She gasped.

Jack grinned. "I liked the snowmen you used to make, you know," he mentioned.

Jessica laughed, as she remembered making snowmen with her sister and asking exactly that. "You're not what I expected,” she said, her eyes taking in every inch of the spirit.

Sam laughed. "Jack's not what anyone expects." Jack grinned.

"Why couldn't I see you before?" Jessica wondered.

"You have to believe," Sam reiterated.

Jack nodded. "Sam was one of the first to believe in me. You're the first girl, though,” he added.

Jessica thought for a moment. "Is this why you put salt on the windows?" She asked Sam.

Sam shook his head. "No. That’s a different thing.”

"Then why?" Jessica asked. She smiled. "I promise I won't think you're crazy this time."

Sam laughed. "Sorry, but that's kind of a secret for a 'two year’ girlfriend to know."

"So, we'll still be together in a couple of years?" Jessica wondered with a grin.

"I hope so," Sam told her.

"You know," Jack said to Jessica. "You never gave him a real response."

"Real resp…" Jessica trailed off with dawning understanding. "I love you too, Sam."


	13. An Interrupted Morning

Jack danced around on the wet grass while he waited for Sam and Jessica to wake up and meet him outside. He had been planning this cold spell for weeks now, but it was only just cold enough for him to be comfortable.

He slid on the damp grass happily. It wasn't ice, but it was good enough for him to mess around on. For a few hours at least.

Jack glanced up at the sun and he guessed that Sam would be up in a couple of hours. He was always up early. Jess complained about how Sam woke her up in the mornings while he argued that she would sleep forever if he let her.

The morning was perfect. It was chilled enough for you to see your breath but not cold enough to need hats and scarves. There was an almost unnatural stillness in the air that would be creepy if it weren't for the sounds of nature and the birds.

That is why Jack tensed so abruptly as he felt eyes burning into him.

He turned to stare at a figure with long dark hair and eyes that were filled with hate. Jack could tell it was a man from his face which was almost blank except for an unnerving curl of his lips. The man held something down at his side.

Jack swallowed nervously, and he raised his staff in what he hoped was an intimidating way.

The man strode over to him purposely and Jack stumbled back as he drew closer. He could feel the hatred aimed at him.

Why? Why did he look so angry? How could this man see him? What did he have at his side?

Then, the man held up the shotgun he had been holding and, before Jack could get his staff ready, he fired.

* * *

 

Sam ambled around the large stretch of grass aimlessly. His eyes roamed around the immediate area and then, he glanced up to check the sky.

Sam turned back to Jessica with a shrug. Jess looked puzzled. She rubbed her hands together to warm them up. Jack had never been late before. Jessica walked over to Sam's side as she searched for their wayward winter spirit.

"Sam!" She pointed towards the shade of a large tree, that many couples had spent some time together under.

Sam turned to stare at where she was pointing. His eyes widened. "Jack!"

They both ran towards the fallen spirit at the same time.

Sam dropped to his knees beside Jack as Jess crouched down at his head and rested it on her knees. Jack groaned weakly at being moved.

Sam took in the injuries on his torso as his blood began to boil. He recognised the weapon that had caused those injuries. Rock salt from a shotgun. Someone had tried to kill Jack. No, a hunter had tried to kill Jack.

"Sam?" Jessica called, worried at the look of fury on Sam's face. Sam turned back to her and he tried to push away the anger. "Try wake him up," Jess suggested.

Sam nodded and tried to rouse Jack.

* * *

 

Jack groaned as he was pulled into consciousness. His chest hurt horribly.

"What?" He groaned as he opened his eyes.

An amused giggle and a quiet " _Jess!_ " answered him. Jess and Sam, they were supposed to meet him but…

"There's a hunter!" Jack said as he shot up to try warning his friends about the danger.

The pain all over his chest had him hunching over instead.

"Easy!" Sam admonished. "We know. Rock salt,” he added, knowing Jack would want an explanation.

"A hunter?" Jessica wondered quietly, Sam hadn't mentioned a hunter being the area. "Do you know him?"

Sam shrugged looking between her and Jack. "I haven't been in touch with Bobby for a couple of weeks, but he probably would have called me if he knew about someone in the area."

Jack nodded as he struggled to straighten up. "He might come back."

Sam nodded, and he helped Jack to his feet. Jess hovered anxiously around them, unsure of what she should do. She cursed herself quietly. She was trying to be a doctor and here she was – freaking out.

"C'mon, I'll help you once we get back to the apartment," Jess decided.

"Grab my staff?" Jack asked Jess as Sam led him towards their apartment.

"Sure," Jessica answered, grabbing the long stick and hurrying after them.

* * *

 

Jack hissed as Jessica cleared the wounds covering his chest. Jess hummed in sympathy. "Sorry, sorry," she muttered.

Jack just shook his head to tell her it was fine. He knew she wasn't trying to hurt him.

Sam walked over to them from the kitchen. "I just called Bobby - he says hi by the way – but he didn't hear anything about a hunter coming to the area,” he told them, as he turned the phone over in his hands nervously.

"So… what does that mean?" Jessica asked, still very unsure about all the supernatural business. Sam felt like he had to tell her everything after she learned about Jack. It also helped explain a lot of the unusual scars he had.

Sam sighed. "It means… I dunno what it means. What did this hunter look like, Jack?"

"Dark hair, angry eyes, dark clothes. He had a shotgun." Jack chuckled as he gestured at his chest. "Clearly."

"Could he have been a student?" Jessica asked looking between the two.

Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully and tried to think if anyone he had met had seemed like a hunter.

"Maybe - " Jess began but she was cut off as their door was suddenly kicked opened.

"Get down!" Shouted a man holding a shotgun aiming it at Jack.

"Woah, woah!" Sam shouted, holding up his hands. "Put it down!" he ordered pointing at the shotgun.

"Not until you get away from that thing!"

"He's not a thing!" Jessica argued.

"Jess," Sam warned quietly as the hunter aimed his shotgun at her. "Put it down,” he told the hunter again.

"It's not human!" The hunter hissed.

"I know," Sam replied taking a step closer to the hunter. "I'm a hunter too, but Jack," Sam nodded in Jack's direction, "Jack isn't dangerous, he's my friend. He's harmless, really,” he added.

The hunter's eyes narrowed at Sam for a moment before they widened in recognition. "Sammy Winchester?" He said with a curl of his lips.

"I – it's Sam,” he answered uncomfortably.

"I'm James,” the hunter introduced with the same unnerving grin. "Now, why shouldn't I kill this little monstrosity?" He indicated towards Jack with the shotgun as Jess tried to position herself between Jack and James. Much to the immortal winter spirit's annoyance.

First Sam calling him harmless, and now this!


	14. An Unlikelier Friendship

"I'm James,” the hunter introduced with the same unnerving grin. "Now, why shouldn't I kill this little monstrosity?"

"Well… He's my friend," Sam answered, weakly.

Jack winced behind him. That reply never would have worker with either John or Dean. It definitely wouldn't work with this stranger.

"He hasn't hurt anyone," Jess said, thankfully coming to Sam's defense.

"Never heard of frostbite then? Hypothermia?" James taunted.

"Cold and ice are… forces of nature," Sam argued. "Winter would happen without Jack. Anyone who has died because of the cold would have died anyway."

James stared, aiming his gun. "If winter is gonna happen anyway, then why should it matter if the Icicle survives?"

"Because he's my friend," Sam snapped. "And, I've never heard of any hunter named James before. But I know you've heard of me. Do you want to know the reason?" He threatened.

James laughed. "I didn't know you were still hunting, Sammy. Your Daddy's and your brother are all broken up 'bout you leaving for,” he gestured to the room, “all this.” He leered at Jess, who scowled and crossed her arms.

"I'm not hunting anymore. I'm out of that life. I have a normal life now," Sam hissed. "Normal-ish,” he amended, hastily at the dubious looks from everyone in the room.

" _Normal_?" James sounded out. "What's _that_ like?" He asked genuinely.

Sam blinked. _What?_

* * *

 

Jessica could safely say this was one of the weirdest situations she had ever been involved in. This stranger had broken into their apartment and tried to shoot her and Sam and had actually shot Jack. And now Sam was talking to him about teaming up!

Although, in her boyfriend's defense, Sam was mostly disagreeing with James about that.

"I mean... we clearly have different techniques and I'm not even really hunting anymore," Sam tried to argue.

"And that's why it's perfect! We could improve each other's skills and I could hunt while you're doing classes and you could hunt while I'm doing mine," James answered with real enthusiasm.

Jessica was currently living the definition of surreal. She heard Jack snicker quietly as Sam's face twitched at the mention of 'improving'. She, herself, might have giggled if the situation had been any less unbelievable and tense.

"We're just too different, James," Sam argued, choosing to ignore the remark about 'improving' considering that the other hunter still held the gun.

"How are we different at all?" James scoffed.

"Well," Sam began. "I would have put down that gun before I started trying to partner up with a guy whose best friend I just shot!" He hissed.

"Yeah," Jack muttered from behind Jessica, sounding incredibly offended.

This time Jessica did actually have to suppress a smile, the oddity of the situation was making her twitch.

James rolled his eyes and dropped the shotgun. "Happy? And anyway," he continued. "Opposites attract I mean," he flicked his eyes between Jess and Sam, "obviously." He finished with a wink at Jess.

Jessica bit her lip and held back a laugh as Jack bent over with silent laughter behind her. Sam was not amused.

"If I didn't think you were still trigger happy…" he trailed off with a huff.

"I haven't heard a single 'no' in this conversation," James mentioned.

"No," Sam snapped.

"Do you promise not to kill Jack?" Jessica asked.

"Jess!" Sam cried in disbelief.

"If he says no, then Jess, you need to make him leave!" Jack called, backing away from the group.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Yes or no, James"?

James' flicked between the three of them before he laughed. "Sure."

* * *

 

The library was almost empty at this time of night. Almost.

Sam shot a discreet glance over towards James, his unwanted hunting partner.

So far, other than several half-in-jest, half-insulting names towards Jack, a little flirting with Jessica and still calling him Sammy, James had been on his best behaviour. He had stuck to his promise not to hunt Jack.

Sam thought that James was just lonely. He snuck another glance and was surprised to find the cold blue eyes staring back at him.

"You're staring," James accused, bored. "I'd stare at me too. Anything other than ancient Greek demigods or…." He glanced at the cover of Sam's textbook, "law.” He shuddered.

Sam glared. "I was not staring. I was…" he trailed off. James had caught him staring. How could he deny that?

James laughed. "You don't trust me. Fine. I get it. Coming into an apartment with a loaded weapon is not the best way to make friends."

Sam glared. "No," he deadpanned.

"I didn't know you were… you, by the way. I mean if I'd known I would've left you alone, probably."

"Probably?"

James shrugged. "There's not many hunters our age, you know. And, I'm not like you, I didn't have any brothers or sisters. I just had my dad – I guess I was like you in crappy dad terms – but then he died. It's just me now." He laughed, weakly. "I had a kind of… stalker crush on you, you know. That's why I applied to go to college. Well, that and the whole… no one holding me back anymore."

Sam looked away. "I, um… I didn't know I was so… well known in hunting circles."

James snorted. "Yeah, right. The famous Johnny Winchester's boys. As if there are any hunters out there who don't know you, your brother and your daddy."

Sam ignored the pang of homesickness and guilt that struck him whenever he thought about Dean. "You…um." He coughed. "You had a crush on me?" He teased.

James smirked. "Don't tell me you're gonna throw away that beautiful blond for little old me? I mean, I'm a catch… but Jess… wow!"

Sam laughed. "She is amazing. She deserves much better than me,” he admitted. "But I think we all deserve better than the life we got."

James stared. "I feel like you're getting at something, Sam."

Sam sighed. "Listen, no real offense here, but… I don't trust you. Not yet, anyway. Jess does though – for whatever reason. And Jack, too. A little," Sam struggled to get out.

" _Sam_ …" James dragged out.

"Going out on a hunt with someone you don't trust is an awful idea, but for you I'm willing to make an exception."

James' face brightened comically. "Does that mean I'm in the gang?"

"Well, no it's just a trial run so far – who says it's a gang?" Sam asked, cutting himself off.

"I won't let you down, Sammy, I promise," James swore, seriously.

"Seriously, it’s Sam… you know what? Forget it. Welcome to the 'gang', James."

* * *

 

With a final screech, the spirit vanished in a swirl of flame. For a moment, there was absolute silence, as the foursome readjusted to silence and, relative, safety.

Then, James snorted, Jack laughed, Sam sighed, and Jess released a nervous giggle. Jess lowered her rock salt loaded shotgun, retrieved from under the car seat where she had been left as the get-away driver, until her boys had been overwhelmed by the angry ghost.

James rolled to his feet and started brushing the recently overturned dirt from his clothes, and prodding at soon to form bruises. He nodded a silent thanks to the spirit for distracting the ghost and preventing it from killing him.

Sam also pulled himself to his feet, brushing a hand across his throat where the spirit had grabbed and thrown him away from its grave. He had directed James to kept going while Jack tried to distract it, but it had gotten lucky shot at them both, and it would have likely killed James if Jess hadn’t shot it, distracted it again while Jack covered her, and Sam finished salting the bones and burning them.

Jack was stretching and twirling his staff while complimenting her shooting, which Jess uncomfortably laughed off. Sam didn’t like having her get so involved in this part of his life, but she had saved their lives.

They had all saved each other’s lives.

This hunt couldn’t have been completed, and not without any serious injuries, without everyone working together and putting in the effort. Maybe this team thing was worth it after all.

“Good work, Icicle,” James called, snatching up his shovel.

“You weren’t so bad yourself, Hunter-Gatherer,” Jack snapped back, spreading a growing patch of frost across a few of the older gravestones.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Are you alright, Jess?” He wondered.

Jess nodded. “I’m fine, but I’m not staying in the car anymore,” she protested. “You guys couldn’t have done this without me, I’m not letting you try again. You’re not leaving me behind anymore.”


	15. Dreams and Denials

Jess huddled under a blanket with a shiver, grinning at Jack where he perched on the edge of their coffee table, watching her where she curled up on the couch.

“You’re not too cold?” Jack wondered.

Jess had lowered the temperature to let Jack sit comfortably in the apartment. James was off at one of his classes, for once, and Sam was sleeping in their room, buried under enough blankets that he probably wouldn’t notice the chill. She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Jack said, doubtfully, poking at the blanket. “If you’re sure. What was it you wanted to talk about?” He wondered.

Jess shrugged, suddenly uncertain. “What do you know about… dreams?” She wondered, making a face at how stupid she sounded.

“Dreams?” Jack repeated. “While you sleep? What? Like the Sandman? Is he here?” He asked, rapidly.

Jess shook her head. “No, no. I mean… like, recurring dreams. The Sandman wouldn’t do that, would he?”

Jack shrugged. He didn’t know very much about the quiet little man, other than that he was friendly enough to wave at Jack whenever they crossed paths. “What’s going on, Jess?” he asked softly.

Jessica cast a glance at her and Sam’s bedroom. “Sam’s been having these… dreams,” she began. “And they’re always the same. Me, on the ceiling, burning.” She shuddered. “His mom died the same way.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, that’s why he was hunting, they were trying to find the demon that did it.”

“At first, I thought it was just because of what happened to his mom, but,” Jess paused. “I’ve started having them too. I thought maybe Sam had just gotten me on edge, but I’m not so sure anymore. What if,” she paused again, casting another glance at the door. “What if it’s something else?”

“What? Like a vision?” Jack guessed.

Jess shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’ve had some weird dreams… like… Oh, I don’t know. I had one with Sam, but he was dressed in an all-white suit and he wasn’t… something in him _wasn’t_ Sam.”

“It wasn’t though,” Jack said. “It was a nightmare, Jess.”

Jessica sighed. “Maybe I’m just freaked out. This while monsters thing is still pretty new to me,” she admitted. “But, is there any sort of spirit or monster that causes bad dreams?”

Jack hummed thoughtfully. “The Sandman makes dreams but… this isn’t like him. And I haven’t seen any sand around here. It must be something else.” He frowned and cast a glance around him, searching the shadows. “I have heard about another spirit, a nightmare spirit. He preys on fear. If you were freaked out about whatever Sam saw, then maybe he could have latched on,” Jack suggested.

“What do you know about him?” Jess wondered, pulling her blankets close.

Jack shook his head. “Not much. He hasn’t been very active in years – not since I’ve been alive. I don’t even know his name. He made a lot of trouble a long time ago, some of the other spirits got together and defeated him. But he could have recovered by now.” He shrugged. “He lives off of fear, and if the other spirits are afraid of him then he can’t die.”

Jessica shuddered. “He sounds dangerous,” she noted.

Jack nodded. “He is.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere near him, Jack,” Jessica warned, her eyes flashing dangerously. “I mean it. If this guy is half as dangerous as you say, I don’t want you getting hurt. I care too much about you to risk it.”

“I care about you guys too. You’re the first friends I’ve had in my whole life. I’m not losing you, not to this. If he’s the one who’s doing this,” Jack began.

“No,” Jess cut off. “You said he feeds on fear, right? Well that means that something else is giving Sam his dreams. He told me that he hasn’t even thought of his mom in years, so why would this nightmare guy bring that up? Something else is doing this – if it is a something, and not just a few bad dreams. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger, not for this.”

Jack frowned but he nodded. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if it gets any worse, or if you see anything when you’re awake then I’ll hunt the Nightmare King back to whatever bed he’s hiding under.”

Jess smiled. “I know you will, Jack, I’m just hoping that you won’t need to.”

 

* * *

 

Their apartment building was unusually quiet. James doubted that there was anyone else on their floor. He shivered at the unnatural silence as he unconsciously silenced his own steps along the hallway, making no sound as he crept along.

He brushed past Jessica and Sam’s door, debating knocking for a moment, when he jerked his hand back, shocked at the ice-cold chill of the wood.

For a moment, a million thoughts of monsters and spirits raced through his mind before he realised what it was.

“Jack,” he muttered, shaking his head, taking note of the faint frost traces lingering on the carpet. He still thought that Sam and Jessica trusted the spirit too much, but he couldn’t deny that Jack hadn’t done anything wrong or even slightly suspect. They all seemed to be genuinely friends.

James shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pondering whether or not he should interrupt. Him and the spirit had made a good team while they were out on the hunt, but they still weren’t quiet friends. He didn’t think that the Icicle was at ease when he was around, and James could recognise when he wasn’t wanted by someone.

_“… dreams. And they’re always the same. Me, on the ceiling, burning. His mom died the same way.”_

_“Yeah, that’s why he was hunting, they were trying to find the demon that did it.”_

_“At first, I thought it was just because of what happened to his mom, but I’ve started having them too. I thought maybe Sam had just gotten me on edge, but I’m not so sure anymore. What if, what if it’s something else?”_

_“What? Like a vision?”_

James froze. A vision? Of Jess burning on the ceiling? He had seen that before. He had dreamed it himself. He had just tried to ignore it though. He had figured that it was just a coincidence, considering that his mom had died the same way.

But, a demon?

Had his mom been killed by a demon? His dad had never mentioned that. His dad only said that there was something in their house, not a demon. He had never mentioned any demon. They had never even come across a demon before, either of them.

Except for that night, apparently.

James sighed, leaning against the door frame, rubbing a hand down his face. What did it mean if he was seeing things too? Did it have anything to do with…? No. No, it didn’t, he decided. That was nothing. He had made it up. There was nothing weird or unusual about him. Nothing more than anyone else would be after living his life.

_Except for the fact that you’re dreaming about your friend dying on the ceiling, and so is she._

No, he decided. It was nothing. Just bad dreams. Nothing more.

 

* * *

 

Sam woke up with a scream caught in his throat. He shot a look up at the ceiling, just to check that the love of his life wasn’t burning on the ceiling. She wasn’t.

Sam muttered a curse and pressed a hand to his pounding heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore his pounding head.

What was this? Why was he having these dreams? Why was Jess in them? Why was she dying in the same way as his mom?

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Whatever this was, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Jess. He would die before he let anyone hurt her.

 

* * *

 

Outside, Brady sat in his car, watching the building. He watched the other hunter enter and made a guess at his window based on which lights turned on. It took a few minutes, but that could mean anything. It was assuming a lot to guess that the hunter was on the same floor, but Brady wasn’t too worried about the hunter.

It was Sam he wanted. Sam, and his beautiful little blonde.

The boss would be annoyed to lose one of his own before their trials, but if Sammy didn’t seem to inclined to jump back on the hunting horse on his own. Not even the nearby were enough to tempt him back into the fold. He was all too willing to fade into normal life and abandon the destiny that had been laid out centuries before his miserable little life began.

Brady chuckled. They couldn’t have that, could they?

He pulled out his phone. These meat sacks might be virtually useless, but they had handy ways of communicating. He dialed a number.

“Tom, Ruby? You there?” He asked. Two other deep cover demons, assuming the identities and living among the other skin-suits, waiting to be useful to someone else. He was sure that they would jump at the opportunity to further their leader’s plan.

“Be ready to go. We’re acting soon.”


	16. Desperate Times

A Chupacabra, or ‘goat-sucker’, was supposed to be the size of a bear, with spines from neck to tail base. It sucked the blood from livestock and cattle and, most recently, a few wandering students. It was dangerous. Deadly. And, in Jack’s opinion, it was one of the ugliest things that he had ever seen.

That didn’t lessen the danger that it posed, however. Not at all.

Not once it had attacked.

James swore and cursed and screamed. Jack hadn’t even heard half of those words before, but he was far more focused on Sam, on preventing him from bleeding out.

“It’s dead, right?” Jack checked.

James swore again. “It better be!” He snapped. He snatched up his rifle from where he had dropped it after the creature jumped Sam. “Keep watch over him,” he ordered, and rose to his feet, aiming the gun and cautiously peering around the forest for the creature.

He whistled and taunted the Chupacabra, but there was no movement from it.

Sam, however, did move.

“J – Jack?” Sam slurred.

“Sam? Are you alright? What can I do? How can I help?”

“Hurt,” Sam whimpered.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re hurt. The Chupacabra.”

Sam shook his head with a whine. “You?”

Jack almost laughed. “We’re fine. You’re the one who got hurt, not us.” He flinched as James’ gun went off and there was a loud screech and a thump.

“Thing’s dead!” James announced, rushing back to them. “You alive, Sam?”

Sam coughed in response.

“Get the car,” Jack ordered. “We need to get him back to Jess.”

“Not a hospital?” James wondered. “We haven’t done anything wrong yet. And if we leave that thing here then there’s nothing to tie us to it.”

“No,” said Jack and Sam together.

“No hospital,” Sam coughed.

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s too dangerous. What if they report it? They’ll find out about you guys’ pasts.”

James frowned. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “Keep him alive, Ice Cube. I’ll go get the car and call Jess.”

“What do _I_ do?” Jack wondered.

James shrugged. “Keep him cool.”

* * *

 

Jack hovered anxiously in the doorway. James glared, but Jack ignored him.

Blood stained Sam and Jessica's once cream coloured sheets. The horrifying crimson red was covering the front and shoulder of James' flannel shirt from where he had carried Sam on his shoulder. Jack’s own clothes were also coated, but, whatever magic sustained them was already ensuring that it faded away. Jack just hoped that it was an omen.

Sam was covered in blood, but that wasn't nearly as terrifying as the countless wounds spread out on his chest. A couple of his wounds even still had the Chupacabra’s quills lodged deep inside.

"Will he be alright?" Jack asked, his fear and worry obvious.

"I don't know," Jessica replied, helplessly.

Sam had lost consciousness while James and Jack had rushed home with him. Not being able to ask him what she could do had left Jess rattled. They were each other's rock.

"I don't have any equipment. Are you sure we can't just call an ambulance?" She asked, biting her lip. Monster induced injuries were always difficult to deal with. And hospitals were not always an option. Jessica was practically a fully trained doctor at this point if she counted all her 'field work'.

"Of course I'm sure!" James snapped, irritably. But the worry plain on his face made it hard for Jess to be offended.

"Where can we get equipment?" Jack wondered looking at Sam before paling drastically and turning to Jessica.

James shrugged. "I could check a pharmacy,” he offered.

"No," Jess sighed. "You'd need to raid an ambulance..." She trailed off. "No. _No_ . You are _not_ going to raid an ambulance!" She ordered at James' plotting look.

"He'll die otherwise," James insisted. He pulled a flask of holy water out of his pocket and tossed it to Jessica. "Keep cleaning out the wounds with this. If they stop smoking and sizzling, try stitch them up. Keep him alive." He fixed Jess with a glare when she looked like she would argue. "I'm saving your boyfriend's life. C'mon Jack." James stalked out of Jessica's bedroom.

Jack looked torn between wanting to help Sam and not wanting to ignore Jess.

"Go, Jack," Jess sighed heavily. "He's right. _It’s_ not right, but… _Go_.”

Jack nodded and took another moment to stare at his best friend. He had known Sam for years, but he hadn’t seen him look so… bad before. Whatever it took, he would save him.

Jess knelt down beside Sam and turned the flask over in her hands. It was only after staring at it that she noticed her hands shaking. "Oh God," she whispered. "Please Sam, don't die,” she begged, reaching over and grasping one of his pale, limp hands. She kissed him lightly on his forehead and then started pouring the holy water over the wounds.

Every broken whimper that Sam made, even unconscious, stabbed her in the heart.

* * *

 

Jack stood stiffly beside the ambulance, invisible, as the EMTs rushed towards the abandoned building that an anonymous call had come from asking for assistance.

Jack would be the first to admit that he wasn't necessarily a 'good' spirit and was likely first on the naughty list each year, but he felt incredibly uncomfortable stealing from an ambulance.

"Sam will die otherwise!" He hissed to himself.

_You don't know that,_ he tried to convince himself.

"Yeah, I do," he sighed.

Jack quietly clambered up through the open doors and began rooting around for anything that might be useful. "Jess probably should have been the one to come,” he muttered, staring blankly at the equipment.

"Grab that transfusion kit," James muttered.

"James!" Jack hissed at the hunter's sudden reappearance, spooked. His expression almost comical. Except no one was laughing.

James growled at the spirit for wasting time. "Grab. That. Transfusion. Kit."

* * *

 

Jessica was on her knees, praying to every god there was when James and Jack returned. "Thank god!" She cried, grabbing the bag of stolen medical equipment. The hunter and the spirit were shoved outside the room, so Jessica could focus.

Jack returned to his position of hovering just outside the door. In part to remain close to Sam and in part because he was still wary of James.

"I'm not going to kill an accomplice, Spirit, so you can calm down," James assured him, quietly.

Jack slumped at the reminder of their crime. "We did a bad thing. Like a really bad thing."

James nodded. "Yeah,” he muttered sympathetically.

"Like in almost three hundred years I've never done something so…." He trailed off. "We stooped pretty low."

James snorted. "That's a bit of an understatement. But remember, you can always go lower."


	17. Melting and Mending

Jack noted, only distantly, that he was being carried over California. It was in the dwindling weeks of summer and was still way too hot for him to even dream of visiting his friends. He could only visit during the chillier winter and autumn months, and even then, he had to pick his moments with care.

Although, being able to influence the Wind to redirect atmospheric pressure and create rain and cloud cover really helped him continue on their friendships.

Today, however, was not one of those moments. Today, Jack was planning on causing a little out of season snow spell somewhere across the continent. He had been neglecting his favourite little town lately, the one with the lake that he was born on. He liked watching that little town grow up. He had watched families span generations and die and then be reborn when distant relatives moved back.

It was nice to see that, even when it seemed that everyone was gone, someone would always be there to continue on the family name, or legacy. That they wouldn’t be forgotten.

Jack had been worried about that sort of thing more and more lately. Between Jess’ bad dreams, Sam being attacked and James being the reckless criminal that he was, he worried about them. He worried that they would die young. He knew that it was inevitable.

Jack had watched the world long enough to know that only spirits escaped death, and not always then. But he worried about his friends. He worried that they would never grow old, that they would die young and that they would never know the chance to settle into a little town like Burgess and raise a family and create a new generation of believers.

Jack didn’t want to lose his friends. He didn’t want to be alone again. He didn’t want to have to mourn his best friends alone. He had already been alone for far too long, he couldn’t do it anymore.

The Wind around him swirled and tossed him higher, trying to raise his dwindling spirit. Jack chuckled weakly at the attempt, but he wasn’t sure that there was anything that the Wind could do. There wasn’t anything anyone could do.

No one could escape death.

Jack twirled in the air, twisting belly down and spreading out his arms like he was flying, or falling from such a great height. He didn’t see whatever slammed into his back and sent him plummeting at such a speed that the Wind could only do her best to save her favourite spirit.

* * *

 

Jack came to at the sound of screams and shouts and the roar of fire. His entire body burned. He would have screamed if he thought his chest could expand that much.

He groaned and tried to move, to push himself to his feet, to see what was wrong, to do anything, but the Wind brushed through his hair and pushed him, gently, into the ground, not letting him move.

“How dare you commit an act of such violence against a seasonal spirit! This is punishable by death. You could have killed him!”

“He is an ice creature, it would have been my right.”

“He is the Spirit of Winter! He is a seasonal spirit, to attack him is to attack the very nature of the world. To attack one of the Four is to attack all of us! You have committed an act of war!”

“Oh? What are you going to do about it, little girl, huh? Little fire, can’t beat me!”

Another scream. Summer. Summer Heat, the Spirit of Summer.

What was she doing here?

“See that I don’t decide to punish you further in this moment. Go! Get out of my sight! Just hope that I never catch a whiff of you ever again on this Earth. And if you come anywhere near the Spirit of Winter there will be no embers left to revive you!”

Why was she so angry?

The Wind whirled and whooshed, sounding vicious and angry, very much unlike her usual temperament. It died down only slightly before two burning hot hands brushed against his face.

“Oh? Jack? Jack, are you awake?”

“Summer?” Jack croaked, peeling open his eyes.

“Jack,” Summer gasped, her fingertips just skimming his cheeks where wisps of steam rose from her heat and his tears of pain.

“What happened?” Jack gasped through the pain of his torso.

Summer shook her head, her fiery hair crackling and rising like the flame that she created. “I am so sorry, Jack. I had no idea that she would do this. If I thought that anyone was capable of this…” she paused and flame whooshed out of her eyes, briefly giving her the image of a burning woman, rather than the more lifelike body that she had. _“I would have destroyed them.”_

Summer died in a house fire during Jack’s first few years as a spirit. He had watched her be reborn. Despite their opposing powers and lifestyles, he counted her as a friend. As much as they could be seeing each other so rarely. But he knew her well enough to know that he believed her. She wasn’t lying. About any of that.

“She was an elemental. She never should have been made. I need to stop Mother Nature from doing this, or whoever it is. They’re too dangerous to be alive. I can’t claim them, and I can’t tame them. And I won’t tame that one. I’ll destroy her, before she dares to hurt anyone else,” Summer vowed, darkly.

Elementals were, like Summer, people who died in one of the four elements, and were reborn from that element. Except they were wild and unpredictable and, unless a seasonal spirit took them in and trained them, or they became one themselves, they ended up too dangerous and had to be killed.

Very few people became elementals from the cold.

“Sum, my staff?”

Summer pulled back. “Yes. Jack, you’re hurt. Bad. I don’t know what to do, I can’t touch you. Is there anyone who can help? Anyone else I can find?” She babbled, snatching up the curved shepherd’s crook and, miraculously, not turned into kindling by the elemental’s attack.

The Wind whipped up around them, swirling and moaning.

Summer shut her mouth with a click and listened intently, even as the force put out her fire hair. She frowned. “Stanford? Really?”

The Wind howled.

“Alright! You know best! How can I help?”

Jack tuned out the howling of the Wind and Summer’s responses even as he felt himself be lifted into the air and carried by the unusually gentle, and cool, Wind.

It was oddly relaxing, like a rocking chair and Jack drifted off, until he was somewhat abruptly lowered onto warmer ground. He groaned.

“Sorry, sorry,” Summer babbled. “How do I find your friend? They won’t know how to see me.”

Jack peeled open his eyes and gazed around, disoriented to have ended up here in the middle of summer. “Staff?” He suggested.

Summer’s face twisted up in confusion until she figured out what he was trying to say. “Oh!” She squealed. “Great idea. I’ll be right back!” Without waiting for any acknowledgement, she snatched up Jack’s staff once more and took off running, being blown over and out several times as the Wind hastily and roughly tried to correct her course. A candle in the wind.

Jack chuckled weakly at the sight, something that he instantly regretted as the pain from whatever that elemental hit him with amped up. He writhed on the ground, tearing open his burns and hurting himself even more, but he was past the point of caring. He just wanted someone to come save him. And soon.

* * *

 

The running water sounded incredibly loud in the small, cramped space of Jess and Sam's bathroom. The little room was not built for three people.

Well, two people and an unconscious winter spirit.

"Are you sure this going to work?" James asked, dubiously, watching the rising water level in concern.

"Well, he's magic right? And he gets his power from the cold…" Jess trailed off anxiously. It made much more sense in her head. "It'll work, and Jack will be fine," she insisted, mostly to herself.

James shifted Jack in his arms to stare down at his red and pink skin. They had left his clothes on for modesty, but James suspected that Jack was past the point of caring.

The spirit had been wailing when they found him and had kept up some nonsensical muttering the entire journey back to the apartment. Now he was still and silent. And, even though he and the spirit weren't exactly friends, James was scared.

"Magic. Cool," James joked, weakly.

Jessica turned from the bath to glare. She was pale with worry; her eyes were red from holding back tears.

"Don't you think we should be using, like, science… or, you know, medicine, huh pre-med?" He argued.

"He's not human, James," Jess replied, irritated. Shouldn't the hunter know these sorts of things? "He doesn't work like us, biologically."

James, sensing it was not the time to crack a joke about 'Jack's biology', watched the non-existent rise and fall of Jack's chest. "So, can he die?" He said instead, instantly realising that that was not the right thing to say.

Jessica didn't answer but her hands, which were resting on her thighs, started shaking.

James swallowed, he had his answer. He clutched Jack closer to him.

The bathroom door eased open, surprising James. Sam squeezed into the room carrying four big bags of ice.

"I've got some more bags outside," Sam assured them.

Jess pounced on the bags, ripping them open with strength and speed James hadn't known she possessed. Like a mother bear protecting her cubs.

James almost felt like laughing at the metaphor, but Jack wasn't getting any colder in his arms.

Chilled water splashed out of the bath, onto the tiles, as Jess emptied out the ice bags. It spilled out onto her trousers, surely freezing her, but Jess didn't flinch or slow down. She yelled at Sam to get more ice.

James shuffled forward, and Jess paused just long enough for him to lay down the still winter spirit into what James was studiously not considering a watery grave.

Sam slipped back into the room clutching another bag of ice to his chest. He stared in horror at Jack's still body for a moment before dropping the back beside the bath and falling to his knees at Jess' side. He scooped out handful after handful of ice and poured it liberally over Jack.

James watched with worry flickering across his face. He reached back to the tub and shut off the taps. The water was up to Jack's shoulders already. His head lolled into the water.

"He can't drown, can he?" Jess asked suddenly. She dropped her ice handful, instead reaching out and steadied Jack's head.

"He wasn't breathing," James offered, quietly.

"He doesn't," Sam reminded them, still dropping ice into the water.

James watched Sam and Jess carefully. Jess' fingers were going blue and she had started to shiver. Sam's eyes were wide with fear, his movements frantic. "Sam, why don't you get some towels? You and Jess can go put on something dry?" He suggested. "I'll watch the ice-cube," he offered.

Sam turned to watch him warily.

James stared back at him, did Sam not trust him yet? He trusted him with his life, and to be around Jess but not around the sprite?

"He was a great help," Jess intoned quietly, presumably only for Sam's ears, but James heard it anyway.

Sam sighed. "Fine. Hold up his though,” he instructed.

James nodded, switching places with Jess, allowing her to get up and leave. He hastily reached out to hold Jack's head.

Sam hovered in the doorway for a moment. "Thanks,” he muttered. "For…" he trailed off.

James was quiet. He guessed Sam wasn't only talking about helping Jack. "It's what we do."

* * *

 

Jack moaned.

"Welcome back, Titanic," James teased. "Or are you the iceberg?"

"Wasn't my fault," Jack argued weakly with his eyes still closed. "Ocean currents."

James laughed. "S'pose so,” he agreed. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

Jack shrugged, opening his eyes. "I'm cool," he said with a weak smile.

James laughed. "Jess gave me the death stare when I made that joke."

"Where…?" Jack wondered, looking around the small bathroom, dazed.

"Sam and Jess are getting cleaned up, I hope," James explained. "We're in the bathroom and you're in their bathtub."

Jack opened his eyes fully. His eyes continued to lazily trek around the room. "Huh," he said when he realised that he was, in fact, sitting in an overflowing bathtub.

James frowned at the lacklustre response. He had many complaints about the spirit but never that Jack was quiet, in fact Jack matched him joke for joke most days. He reached out and felt Jack's forehead, ignoring the spirit's flinch. He didn't expect Jack to trust him.

"Well, you feel normal," James observed, "but I don't know what normal is for you."

Jack hummed. "I feel normal, is that good?"

"You were burning earlier so it's progress, I guess. You sure you feel alright?"

"Feel wet," Jack responded, petulantly, splashing in the water.

"You can get out soon," James assured him.

"Where's my staff?" Jack mumbled suddenly, weakly struggling to get up.

"Woah!" James hissed, pushing Jack back into the water. "We have it outside. It's fine." James lied.

In truth, the staff had been splintered. The decorative frost around it had been blackened. But despite what must have been a very good attempt at burning it, especially if Jack's condition was anything to go by, the staff was in its usual condition.

"Can I get out now?" Jack whined rolling his head against the curve of the bath.

James sighed. Winter spirit biology was not why he was in college. But the ice cubes had stopped melting and that was probably good. "I'll go grab you a towel." He looked down at Jack's sopping hoodie. "And, maybe a shirt."

“Thanks,” Jack said, shifting around in the water and creating a larger puddle on the ground.

James just hoped that Mr Lyle downstairs didn’t complain about any leaks. He slipped out of the bathroom, carefully keeping his eyes at the ceiling when he poked his head into Sam and Jess’ bedroom. “Jack’s awake,” he announced. “He wants to get out of the tub.”

“Is that such a good idea?” Sam wondered.

James shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, but he seems alright. He probably still needs to get colder though. And,” he added, “he probably needs something else to wear while we wring out those old clothes.”

“I’m sure that I have something,” said Jess.

James could hear her rummaging around in her wardrobe, but he didn’t dare look down yet.

“We’re decent. It’s fine,” Sam said.

He chanced a quick glance, relieved to see that both parties were fully dressed, if not a little shabbily. “I hope you’re not planning on going out in that,” James said.

“Why not?” Sam asked.

James stared. “He’s not my best friend, but I’m not going to let this go unpunished. We’ve got to kill whatever did that. Be ready to go as soon as Jack tell us what happened.”

“We can’t leave him,” Sam protested.

“I’ll watch him,” Jess offered. “I’ll keep the sawed-off with me. That’ll keep us both safe.”

“Are you sure?” Sam worried.

Jessica grinned, all teeth. “Positive. I’ll be better if you don’t let me near that thing. But, if it comes for me, I won’t hold back.”

James agreed. He worried more about whatever might try to kill Jess than about Jess herself. Between the four of them, they could and would take on anything that tried to hurt them.

* * *

 

Sopping wet towels created a noisy carpet on the tiled bathroom floor. The water had been drained from the tub in favour of more ice, which Jack was perched on and wrapped up in Stanford jumper and a pair of her old tracksuit bottoms.

The ice had stopped melting and any colour that had been in Jack’s cheeks had disappeared in favour of a very faint blue tint. Jess supposed that that was a good sign.

The spirit in question seemed to agree, drawing frost patterns on their tiled walls with his fingertips and trying to make Jess laugh.

“So, what happened with Summer?” Jack wondered. “She took my staff and ran to find you, how’d she managed that?”

Jess laughed. “It’s actually kind of funny now. She – Summer? – tapped it against the windows until we looked and from there led us to you. But we couldn’t see her really, just the floating staff and a little bit of smoke.”

Jack nodded. “That’s her hair,” he explained. “It’s like fire, but she didn’t know where to go so the Wind just blew her around and sort of extinguished it,” he laughed.

Jess almost laughed, but she cut herself off at a sound from outside the bathroom. Jack shot her a wide-eyed look. “Jess,” he whispered, slowly. “Don’t,” he warned.

Jessica hefted the shot-gun in her hands. Sam and James had been teaching her to shoot, and she had gotten plenty of target practice keeping them safe over the year. She was confident. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. “Don’t leave this room.”

“Jess!” Jack hissed, but she ignored him, slipping out of the door and aiming the sawed-off, ready to shoot.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything even slightly out of place. She saw nothing. Then, the staff twitched. She aimed. “Who’s there!?” She demanded.

The staff twitched again before it was lifted off of the ground and into the air and twirled around once, as though someone was fiddling with it.

Jess’s finger twitched on the trigger, but before she could consider firing, she noticed the dying vase of flowers beside the floating staff slowly blooming. She pursed her lips together. She didn’t see any smoke, so this wasn’t the summer spirit. “Spring?” She guessed.

The flowers reached full bloom in the same moment that a flowery dressed young woman appeared in the middle of the room, cradling Jack’s staff protectively. “Flower,” she corrected. “Lower your weapon. Unless you’ve hurt Jack Frost, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jess did as she was told. “You know Jack?” She guessed.

Flower nodded. “I’m the Spirit of Spring, we work together sometimes.”

Jessica accepted that. “His staff?” She requested holding out a hand.

Flower frowned. “What happened to it?” She asked inside, twisting it around. “Who tried to burn it?”

Jessica shrugged. “An elemental, Jack said? My friends have gone off to find it.”

Flower shook her head. “If it’s still around I’m sure that Summer will have destroyed it by now. She doesn’t like her friends being hurt.” She brushed her fingertips over the staff. “It’s not too badly damaged,” she diagnosed. “Just a little charred. I don’t think anything magical could destroy it. Only force. A lot of force.”

Jessica stretched her hand out even further. “Can I have it back, please?” She requested, in a strained voice.

Flower ignored her. Instead, the Spring spirit wrapped two hands around the staff and closed her eyes. A bright pink and white light shot out of the staff, before twisting and turning and dancing around the staff, healing the damage. When the lights faded, it was as though nothing had ever happened.

“What?” Jess breathed, surprised.

Flower smiled sweetly and held out the staff. “It’s still wood,” she explained. “The magic isn’t damaged, it’s only a matter of bloom. Here, you can give this back to Jack,” he’s rather protective of his things.”

Jessica took back the staff with a shocked laugh. “Thank you,” she stuttered.

Flower continued smiling. “Just keep looking after him, that’s all the thanks any of us ever need. We can’t be there for him, but you can.”

Jess nodded. “We will. I don’t ever intend to let anything happen to anyone I love, Jack included,” she promised.

“Good,” Flower said. “Tell Jack that I said hi,” she added, before disappearing in a puff of petals, leaving Jessica gaping and uncertain as to whether or not she should laugh.

She glanced down at the staff in her hands, peering at the newly flowery design on the wood. She might be getting more and more used to this monster thing, but she imagined that the spirits would always confuse her.


	18. Pilot

Sam was sure that Jack and James had a reason for being together in the middle of the night, but he didn't care at the moment. He was just glad that they were together, and he was able to talk to everyone at once. He didn't want to repeat himself, or else he might start having second thoughts.

He had only needed to bang on James' door once before James and Jack had yanked the door open. The four of them now gathered in Sam and Jess' apartment while Sam tried to pack.

"Ok, my brother's outside. My dad's missing and he wants me to go find him," Sam explained, hastily shoving his clothes into an overflowing duffel bag. He didn't have time to fold.

"Don't you have that –" Jack began, glancing between Sam and Jess.

"I know,” Sam interrupted. "But I can't exactly leave Dean alone in this. I should be back in time. If not – well, I'm going to become a lawyer. I'm sure I can convince them to reschedule if I really am that good at arguing." He shrugged.

"I don't know about this," Jess muttered, doubtful. She crossed her arms, giving Sam a look.

"Can't I just go?" James offered. "I'm not all that out of practice," he argued, demonstrating some clumsy martial arts move.

Sam knew that James knew karate very well, so he had no idea why James was trying to make a joke right now. Sam shook his head, forcing the duffel shut. "If this is about the Demon, then Dean will need someone who knows about it – and that's me."

"Can't James go with you then?" Jess begged. "This sounds really dangerous."

Jack nodded his agreement. "You could die."

"I need you to stay here," Sam said instead of acknowledging Jack’s comment.

"What? It's so he can protect me isn't it?" Jess scoffed. "I'm not defenceless, Sam."

"I know you're not, Jess but this thing is dangerous. It's come after my dad's friends before whenever he got too close,” he argued. "I don't want to lose any of you,” he added.

"Also, Jess looks like your mother," Jack added. "She's blonde too." He had been incredibly freaked out when he had learned that. James had been too but a long, awkward talk with Brady-the-psychology-major had given him _some_ understanding. But Sam still thought that Freud was wrong, Brady too.

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean blasted the horn, without any regard to the number of angry students now awake. "I love you too, guys,” he deadpanned. Sam softened. "Seriously though, stay safe,” he continued, taking a long look at Jess.

She smiled, comfortingly. "I'll be fine, Sam,” she insisted. "You've just got an overactive imagination."

"You have one too," Sam defended, half-heartedly. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder.

Jess rolled her eyes. "You're not psychic, Sam.”

Sam snorted. "Bye. Promise me that you'll be alright?"

Dean honked again.

"Go, Sam," Jess said.

"We'll be fine," Jack assured him.

"Yeah, as long as Popsicle here doesn't melt," James joked, he shared a look with Jack that Sam didn't have the time to decipher.

Sam rolled his eyes. He quickly kissed Jess and rushed down to where Dean was waiting. "Bye, guys! Please don't burn to death!" He called as he ran.

Sam stopped at the bottom of the stairs and took a moment to catch his breath. "They'll be fine,” he assured himself.

* * *

 

Sam stared out of the window, watching trees and cars stream by. Trying to put Constance Welch to rest had left him exhausted. His chest ached.

If they continued at this rate, he would get back home in plenty of time. With that thought in mind, Sam allowed his exhaustion to catch up on him. He had forgotten how tiring hunting could be.

Sam didn't realise he had fallen asleep until he saw Jessica, with tears in her eyes, dressed in white. She stared at him, wide eyed and gasping, with red coating her stomach.

This time she wasn't on the ceiling. Jessica was backed up in a corner, crying.

James was in this dream too. He was slumped against a wall, bleeding from his head, blood pooling around his leg.

Sam woke up with a gasp, startling Dean. He glanced over from the road, stretched out in front of them.

"You okay, Sammy?" He asked, worriedly.

Sam nodded, gasping. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just… hurry, please,” he begged.

Dean nodded, shooting worried glances as he pressed down on the accelerator.

Sam leaned back and pressed his hand against his heart. "It's just a dream,” he whispered. "Just a really, vivid, recurring dream."

* * *

 

Jess shot up in her bed with a scream caught in her throat. She had just seen her own death, again.

She had blamed Sam for it, originally. He had gotten her worked up. But now, her dream had changed, and Sam wasn't there to worry her.

She had seen Sam this time. James too.

Sam had been pinned to a wall by a wooden stake through his stomach. Jess was horrified to see the blood pouring from his mouth.

James had been slumped against the wall, their wall, with flames and blood surrounding him.

It had been horrifying.

Jess's hands shook at the memory. She squeezed her eyes shut, only to open them quickly as she saw the imprint of Sam and James, dying, still remained.

"James!" She croaked.

James had decided to sleep on their couch. He had claimed that he wanted to keep a better eye on her, but she had noticed that Jack had hovered over James for most of the day.

Clearly the pair had shared _something_ since she had last seen them both. Jess normally wouldn't ask, she would just be happy that they were getting along. But both were clearly unsettled by whatever it was that was between them. Jess didn't want to be worried about Sam, James _and_ Jack. But she was worried.

James burst into her bedroom. She hadn't called him loudly. He must have still been awake. He did look like he had had a sleepless night.

"Jess?" James answered, visibly relaxing when he saw her unharmed. He loosened his grip on the shotgun, leaning it against the wall.

"Are you alright?" She asked, needlessly. Jess wanted to make sure that James wasn't bleeding, but he was clearly not alright.

James laughed breathlessly. "Shouldn't I be asking you?" He wondered. He took a deep breath. "I'm fine," James insisted.

"He's lying," Jack cut across, poking his head in through the door.

Jess hadn't known the spirit was still here. She had thought that he would have had to leave to spread winter outside. She said so.

Jack gave a significant look to James. "I've got incentive to stay,” he insisted. "James thinks Sam isn't the only 'psychic' in the group " Jack teased but he bit his lip, worriedly.

Jess frowned. "You too?" She asked. "You don't just think that Sam's got you worried?"

Something in her tone must have given away her own fears because James and Jack both shot her a look of shared worried.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Jess told them, refusing to explain her dreams. "Go back to sleep, James. You too, Jack,” she ordered.

Jack looked like he wanted to argue but James cut him off, wordlessly, by picking up his shotgun and heading out to the couch. Jess didn't miss the tight grip he kept on the gun, she doubted Jack did either.

"It'll be fine,” she promised.

Jack remained in the door frame for a long moment, glancing over his shoulder between her and James. "Sure,” he said, his disbelief plain to hear. "We'll be fine. They're just dreams."


	19. Fire

Gregory Lyle lived in apartment 2c, right below Jess and Sam. Or, he _had_ lived in the apartment right belong Jess and Sam.

Jess had been distressed to notice the signs of Alzheimer's in the sweet, old man. Due to his lack of relatives and their busy schedules, no one was able to care for the old man in the way he needed.

Everyone in the building had chipped in, and gotten him a place in a very nice, nearby nursing home. Unfortunately, Mr Lyle occasionally forgot that he no longer lived in the apartment and, on that night, he could be found wandering around outside the building.

That was until he was hit with a large, swirling mass of black smoke.

* * *

 

Jess woke up to the sound of James shouting, and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

"James!" She jumped out of bed and ran out of her room.

She froze at the sight in front of her. "Mr Lyle?"

Mr Lyle's eyes flashed yellow as he grinned.

_Demon_ , she recognised. Jess glanced over at James. He was sprawled out on the ground beside the couch that he had been sleeping on. His eyes were closed and there was a bloody mark on his forehead, but he was groaning and moving around. Jessica guessed he had only been stunned by the attack.

He wasn't in danger of dying. Yet.

The Demon raised a hand to attack her, but he was throwback by a burst of ice. Jack moved to stand in front of the Demon, blocking his view of Jess. He held his staff out, ready to attack again.

Jess froze for a moment, she hadn't known Jack was there, before she rushed over to James. They had left their bag of hunting supplies beside the bathroom. That was their best option for getting away and escaping. They would climb out the bathroom window if they had to.

"James!" She shook him awake. Shaking someone who had just been thrown into the wall was not the best idea – he could be concussed or even paralysed – but Jess didn't have another option. She was sure James would prefer to be paralysed over tortured.

"Get the salt," James groaned as he roused, peering between her and the Demon with unfocused eyes.

Jessica ignored him, dragging him to his feet. Her fears about a concussion seemed, temporarily, unfounded as James seemed to catch on quickly. They stumbled together into the bathroom, James snatching up the duffel bag as they went. He hastily began laying down a shaky salt line.

Jess looked away from James when she heard Jack scream. She gasped in horror.

The Demon, bleeding from the mouth, was still grinning with a hand outstretched. Jack was on his knees in front of him, screaming, as fire licked its way across his back.

“Jack!” Jess ran out of the safety of the bathroom. She didn't realise that she had been clutching a flask of holy water until she splashed it at the Demon. He stumbled back, growling and clutching his face. She grabbed Jack's arm in one hand and his staff in the other. She was almost at the bathroom when she felt a searing pain across her abdomen. Jess gasped, dropping Jack's arm.

Luckily James was there to drag them both into the bathroom. He didn't waste any time in throwing Jack into the bath, already filling with freezing water, and pressing a towel against her stomach.

Jess leaned against the wall. She looked over at Jack, flushed and panting, and James, slumped against the doorframe, clearly hurt after his collision with the wall. James clutched the shotgun to his chest and blocked the doorway as best as he could.

Jess closed her eyes and prayed that Sam wouldn't be home. She didn’t want him to try save them, she just wanted him safe. She didn't want to watch her friends die. She was wrong. They weren't just dreams.

* * *

 

"I'm home!" Sam called, slamming opening his front door, heart pounding. He couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary from the hall, and there had been no lights on from the outside, but he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something had been wrong.

He had barely waited for the car to stop before he had raced into the building almost without a backwards glance at his brother.

"Sam! He's here! The Demon! Get in here now! Run!" James shouted.

Sam cursed, eyes darting across the apartment. He couldn't see any demon or his friends, but he could already see the remains of a fight.

He grabbed the box of salt from his duffel bag and dumped the bag on the unturned hall table. He cautiously but quickly crept along the hallway towards James' voice, ready to create a temporary salt circle around himself if he needed, although he doubted that he would be able to do anything quick enough.

His heart pounded. Sam's mind ran wild, thinking about what could have happened to Jess. For a moment, Sam wondered if he had the time to run back outside and go get Dean. But then, Sam turned to the corner and he knew that he probably would never see Dean, or his Dad, ever again.

Their bathroom was still too small for two people. But Jess, Jack and James managed to all crowd into the room.

The Demon blocked much of his view, but Sam could still see James shielding the others from the Demon’s gaze. Sam was glad, he could see Jack unconscious and Jess heavily bleeding. James didn’t look too good either, but the other hunter had never missed a shot. The salt line was holding, and they were all still alive.

Sam wasn’t about to let that change.

The Demon turned – _poor Mr Lyle_ , Sam noted – and bared his teeth at Sam. "Hey Sammy," it cooed. "You're home early. And we started the party without you."

Sam growled, he took a step backwards as he grabbed a flask from his back pocket. He flung the holy water in the Demon's face, noticing the water already on its clothes. He felt a surge of pride for his friends.

The Demon hissed at him through a cloud of black smoke.

Sam didn't hesitate. He quickly began to lay down a clumsy salt line around the Demon. The words of an exorcism came easy to Sam after years of it being drilled into him.

The Demon snarled. "I'm supposed to leave you alive, but I guess I can change my plans,” it flung out a hand, telekinetically throwing Sam across the apartment. He hit the wall with a crack, hitting the ground with a moan.

Sam felt as though his skull had been shattered. His body wouldn't obey his commands to get up and run.

The Demon stepped out of the unfinished salt circle with a dark laugh.

Sam heard Jess scream as fire sprung up throughout the apartment. But his eyes never left the Demon. Through blurry eyes he saw it approach.

Sam had crashed into a chair when he fell, the Demon took advantage of that. It plucked up the sharpest, thickest piece it could find. Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what would happen next, that still didn't make it hurt any less.

Sam screams were drowned out by the cries from James and Jack as the piece was plunged into his stomach, repeatedly.

James struggled with the shotgun for a second as he rushed forward to shoot the Demon. He fired quickly, but the Demon was quicker. James was flung across the room, into the flames.

Sam heard James screaming in pain. Numbness spread through his body. _This is it_ , Sam guessed.

_No_. He would not die here, Sam vowed. He had to save his friends. His dad was still missing. They still had a relationship to repair.

Sam took advantage of a rush of adrenaline to drag himself to his feet, he watched James do the same, stumbling out of the fire. Jessica slumped on her knees against the door frame. Jack stood at her side, clutching his staff in shaking hands.

Sam didn't know what happened. He only knew that they couldn't die yet – and then they didn't.

There was a sudden flash of light, and the Demon was gone.

He dropped to his knees with blood pouring from his mouth. Shouldn't that be inside him?

Someone grabbed his arm, dragging him to his feet. He stumbled to the door, following the hand. Sam distantly noticed Dean carrying Jess in his arms, pale and running to the door. Jack stumbled behind him.

He didn't know how five of them got down the stairs – Dean carry Jess, a quickly failing James dragging Sam and Jack, his staff the only thing keeping him upright, stumbling along.

Sam remembered lying on the grass, staring at the stars and the smoke billowing out of their burning home. Did anyone pull the fire alarm?

James dropped down against his chest. His burned hands had been pressed against the holes in Sam’s abdomen before he had passed out. His weight fell heavily on the wounds, putting pressure on them.

Dean was putting pressure on Jess's stomach, babbling down a phone for an ambulance and begging for Sam to hold on.

Sam rolled his head around in search of Jack. The winter spirit had been just behind them, hadn't he?

He was surprised to see two other barefoot spirits, a girl dressed in bright colours and the boy dressed in greens who look vaguely familiar. He assumed they were spirits anyway. The girl was holding Jack upright and the boy was clutching Jack's staff desperately.

They were having a rapid, hushed conversation that was only broken up by worried glances at Jack, Sam, the shotgun James had dropped beside him and the burning house.

"Jack?" Sam coughed.

"What was that, Sammy?" Dean asked, twisting to look at Sam over his shoulder.

Sam ignored him. "Jack?" He croaked again, trying to get the spirit's attention. Jack didn't look like he was doing so well.

The spirit in green looked over at him. He gave a clearly fake smile that didn't hide any of his fear. "We'll look after him," he promised. "He'll be back to annoying Summer in no time." His smile faltered. "Jack's the strongest spirit there is. He'll be fine." He didn't seem to believe it.

"Who's Jack, Sammy?" Dean asked, clearly nervous that Sam was now delirious.

Sam could feel his body shutting down. It was unnerving. "Jack Frost," Sam whispered before his body finally gave out and he fell under the wave of unconsciousness.


	20. Aftermath

Fire engines and ambulances wailed. People screamed. Fire roared.

“Sam? Sammy!” Dean shouted, trying to rouse his baby brother from where he had collapsed onto the ground.

Sam hadn’t moved from where his friend had dropped him and fallen. Neither had his friend. Jess was moving even when Dean pressed harder into the bleeding wound in her stomach.

Smoke hung heavy in the air, making it hard to see and harder to breathe.

“I need help over here!” Dean shouted, coughing and spluttering as an ambulance skidded to a halt on the edge of the grass. It took the EMTs an eternity to jump from the back of the ambulance and begin to move towards them, only to jump back when the building gave a loud groan and an entire floor buckled.

They were too close.

“Jess! Sam!”

Dean glanced away from the burning building to see a pair sprinting across the grass towards them. He regretted that he had left his weapons in the truck of the car. They were incredibly vulnerable out here like this.

“Jess,” the woman breathed, wide eyed and horrified. “What happened?” She demanded, dropping to her knees beside Jessica.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know.” He wasn’t sure what had happened. Sam ran into the building like he was being chased, and then Dean spotted fire through the windows. He had already pulled his baby brother out of one fire, he wasn’t letting him get burned again. He raced up to the apartment and found the door wide open with an old guy with yellow eyes, and his brother, his girlfriend and a stranger badly injured.

The woman shot a look over her shoulder. “Zach, take care of James!” She ordered. She pushed at Dean’s hands. “I’ll take Jess, you grab Sam. We need to get them away from the fire and I can’t carry him.”

Dean hesitated to leave Jess, but he wanted to check on his brother more than anything. He quickly scrambled over the grass to Sam. His face was dark with smoke, but his skin was bloodless and pale. Dean touched him and he was cold. With shaking fingers, he felt for Sam’s pulse, finding it weak and fluttery.

He hooked his hand under Sam’s arms and carefully started dragging him back towards the ambulance, followed by the woman and Zach. He did his best to ignore the blood trail being left on the grass, but it made him want to be sick. There was no reason that that much blood should ever be coming from his baby brother.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sammy,” Dean muttered in Sam’s ear, even as his head hung limp on his chest.

He lowered Sam to the ground once they were clear of the haze of smoke. As soon as he stepped back, Sam was swarmed by paramedics and Dean couldn’t see him anymore.

“Who are you?” The woman asked.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and considered ignoring her. How had this happened so quickly? What the hell had just happened? “I’m Dean, Sam’s brother.”

“Dean Winchester? I’m Becky Warren, I used to Jess’ roommate. That’s my brother Zach Warren. We’re friends with your brother. Were you in the building, Dean?” Becky asked, clear and patient.

Dean shot her an uncertain look. “Uh, yeah. I had to carry out Jess. The… other guy brought Sam out.”

“James,” Zach filled in.

Becky put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, if you were in the building then you need to talk to the paramedics. They need to check for smoke inhalation. Trust me, I’m a med student.”

Dean shook his head. “They need to focus on Sam,” he argued.

“At least go to the hospital,” Becky said. “They can wait to check you out there if you’re alright now. But you need to be checked out. Sam needs you to be checked out,” she pushed.

“We’ll watch the apartment,” Zach offered. “In case anything else happens.” He lowered his voice. “In case anything comes back.”

Dean glanced between the pair. “What are you talking about?”

Becky shook her head. “Nothing. Sam will tell you later, I’m sure. Just, stay with him, just in case. We’ll keep watch.”

Dean hesitated, but in the end, he wanted to stay with Sam and make sure that he was safe much more than he wanted to try chase down the Demon. He spared the siblings another look even as he let himself be pushed into an ambulance where EMTs were shouting complicated words at each other and one of them was trying to put a long breathing tube down Sam’s throat.

“We’ve got no pulse!”

Dean’s heart plummeted. “Oh God!” He muttered, trying to keep out of the way of the frantic movements that were going on in the back of the ambulance while people tried to save his brother’s life.

“Okay, heartbeat’s back and stable,” one of the EMT’s breathed.

The EMT closest to Dean let out a relieved laugh. He clapped Dean on the shoulder as he squeezed past him. “Looks like your brother has got something watching out for him,” he chuckled.

 

* * *

 

Over the years, Sam had become intimately familiar with the sounds and smells of a hospital. He recognised the heart monitor immediately. He recognised the pinch of an IV in his arm, and the weakness he could feel in every cell of his body. He could feel a heavy weight against his leg that was familiar too, from too many times waking up to see someone else performing a bedside vigil.

His eyes were reluctant to open but Sam pushed through. He needed to see that everything was okay. He needed to see that Jess was still alive. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without her. The mere thought of it…

Sam could hear the beep of his heart monitor increasing.

"Sam?" Came Jess's voice. It was weak but steady.

Sam finally peeled opened his eyes. The hospital was the same shade of off-white that was still too bright on tired eyes. He could see the IV line and bag hanging over his head. He could spot the edges of the machines that were monitoring his heartbeat and blood pressure and all sorts of other things that he had never bothered to learn.

His brother, with a day and a half worth of stubble growing on his face, was resting his head against his legs, sleeping. His face was drawn and tired.

Sam looked at the bed across from him. Jess was propped up on several pillows, with her arms wrapped around her stomach. She smiled when she saw him looking.

"Jess," he breathed. "Are you…?" He asked, having to break off due to the dryness of his throat. He coughed.

Jess laughed. "Me? I'm fine. It wasn't that deep. I was incredibly lucky," she explained, but the way that her arms tensed and untensed told him that she didn’t really believe that. "The doctors say that I'll have more problems with the smoke inhalation than the slash."

Sam exhaled in relief. He nodded. "And James and…?" Sam asked, his voice giving out again.

"James is," Jess sighed. "He's got second degree burns all along his shoulders. His hands are… bad, but he shouldn't lose much function in them. He had a concussion but it's not too bad. The smoke inhalation was even worse for him. But they say he'll be fine, and doctors don't like to give certainties," Jess assured him with a grin. Her smile faltered. "I haven't seen Jack since… since the fire."

"Taken… other spirits," Sam croaked. "Said… look after him."

Jess smiled. "That's a relief.” She leaned forward and shot an anxious look out of the door before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “They won't let us leave."

Sam nodded. He guessed that the police would probably want to talk to them, if they hadn't already talked to Jess. Sam wanted to say more to her. He wanted to ask what she'd told them. He wanted to get up and see she was okay. He wanted to find Jack. He wanted to wake Dean up and reassure him that he was okay.

"Go to sleep, Sam," Jess ordered. "I'll tell Dean that you woke up." She smiled. "You need your rest for the tests you're going to get put under when you wake up."

Sam closed his eyes. He was asleep in seconds.

 

* * *

 

Jess watched her boyfriend for a long moment, smiling. It had been close. She had nearly lost him. She _had_ lost him for a few moments. She was relieved that Sam had sounded entirely coherent when he had been awake. Jess had been assured that it had only been seconds and no damage was likely to have occurred, but she had felt like her heart had stopped when she had been told Sam's had.

It had been horrible. She had woken up in an empty room – Sam still in surgery after eighteen hours, and James receiving skin grafts for his hands. No one would tell her anything about James or Sam because she wasn't 'family'.

The police had showed up as soon as she had woken up. They had pestered her with questions and she had gotten increasingly hysterical as their questions turned the blame to Sam and James and they led her to believe that something was horribly wrong with her boys.

She had nearly broken down when she had been handed a bag containing the remains from their apartment. Sam's duffel from his trip with Dean had been saved, along with a few of their pictures and clothes. But everything else was gone.

She couldn't stop the thought that if Sam died then she wouldn't have anything left of him.

Luckily, Dean showed up and chased the officers out of her room until she had properly recovered.

It was strange to meet this stranger, who she had heard so much about, for the first time, especially after knowing and loving Sam for over four years.

Although, it was fitting that they finally met now. Jess reached behind her, under her pillow, to brush her fingers against the small, velvet box that had been saved from the fire. She had found it in Sam's bag. She and Dean wouldn't be strangers for long. Soon, they would all be a family.

Jessica smiled. She knew she would have to wait until Sam asked but she knew that when he did ask, she would say yes.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Jack noticed when he woke up was the searing pain all over his body. The next thing he noticed was the screaming. His screaming.

"Jack! Jack! Calm down!"

"It's okay. You're okay. It's going to be okay. You just need to relax, and it'll stop hurting."

"Jack, please."

Jack knew the voices. The spirits of autumn, spring and summer. He knew that they were his friends – when they could be. But he couldn't stop fighting them. He was in too much pain.

_Why did it hurt so much? Where was Sam, Jess and James? Were they okay?_

"Jack, wake up. It's us. You're safe. We're trying to help," Flower Blossom, the spirit of spring begged.

Flower was the oldest of the seasonal spirits. She was the most nurturing of the four. Jack knew that while the others checked in on him from time to time, Flower was the one only one who would show herself without worrying about any consequences. He still remembered the week when she found him sick, and they stayed out in the winter snow for days until he recovered.

"You need to calm down. We can't heal you unless you're calm," Nature – Nate – Fall, the spirit of autumn, explained.

Nature, better known as Nate, was the older brother figure of all the youngest spirits. He nurtured people in his own way. He prodded and poked at something or someone until they caved and produced the greatness he knew they could. Nate could be a coward sometimes, but he was loyal.

Nate was more laid-back than the other spirits since he wasn't the only spirit in charge of autumn. Fertility spirits, Halloween spirits and a few sun spirits also had their time to be in charge. All Flower's sprites were very young – children, really – and they needed an awful lot more guidance than Samhain did.

"Jack?" Summer Heat, the summer spirit, called. She waited until Jack stopped struggling. "Your friends are safe. They're in the hospital now, but you can't see them until you get better and you can't get better until you calm down,” she explained, slowly. "Please, let us help you."

Summer was a decade younger than Jack, and she was the only other spirit who was the only spirit for their season. She understood Jack better than the others. When he thought about it, Jack guessed it made sense. They were the most violent spirits, the strongest spirits but they were also the spirits who did the most damage to innocent people. They were more secluded than the others. It was a shame they were opposites. It was dangerous for them both to be together for too long.

Jack swallowed back another scream, but a whimper escaped his lips.

"It'll be fine, Jack," Nate assured. "We're bringing you to the Spring of Healing."

"Mother Nature be damned," Flower agreed.

Jack began to panic. He hated the water. Even if it would end this horrible pain.

"We'll be with you the whole way, Jack," Summer promised.

Jack felt a tight, hot hand squeeze his. Despite the extreme heat, Jack felt comforted by it.

"Just like we always should have been."


	21. Meet the Family

Sam woke up to an empty room. The few other times that he woke up had been filled with doctors quizzing him and painful tests of how well he was healing. The stitches on his stomach had been prodded and poked so much the Sam was sure the bruises he had were from the nurses and not from the emergency surgery he had been put through.

Every minute he had been awake, he had had someone at his side, being alone now was somewhat disconcerting. If he was still hooked up to the heart monitor, Sam imagined that it would be rapidly increasing. He was still more than a little shaken after being attacked in his own home. His burnt home.

Sam heard Jess before he saw her. Her blonde hair was easily noticeable through the tiny window of his hospital room. Her face was bright red with tears beginning to spill over onto her cheeks. She looked to be arguing with someone. Sam hoped it wasn't Dean. He wanted the pair of them to get along.

Before Sam could give much thought as to who Jess was arguing with, she burst into the room. "Sam," she began. She wiped from her face with the back of her hand. Jess was an angry crier, Sam knew that she hated that. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Sam noticed Dean follow Jess into the room, but he kept his focus on Jess. He still couldn't miss the fact that Dean looked to be as upset as Jess was.

"The policed are here," Jess explained. "They want to talk to about the fire."

"They think that you did it," Dean continued. "You or your friend. They don't believe that you were with me when it started. They think I'm covering for you."

"What did you tell them?" Sam asked. "I'll just stick to your story. Or I'll just say I don't remember."

Jess nodded. "You did lose a lot of blood," she agreed. Her face was pale now. She was probably remembering just how much blood they had all lost, Sam realised. Dean looked somewhat sickened as well.

Sam wanted to reassure them both but before he could, the police offer came in. He was an angry looking man, and he didn't look like he would be ready to believe that Sam didn't remember anything. But then again, Sam knew he looked pretty pathetic right then. Pale and covered in bandages, he hoped that it would make him look like a more unlikely suspect.

"You two need to leave," the officer ordered. He didn't ask, he ordered.

Sam already didn't like this man. He reminded him of his dad. Jess frowned at the man. Dean glared.

"We'll be downstairs getting something to eat," Jess squeezed Sam's hand. "We'll come back soon."

"Good luck, Sammy," Dean added.

Together Dean and Jess left the room, both hesitating in the door to keep looking at Sam a moment longer. Sam knew that they had both already spoken to the police, probably this same officer. He would probably need good luck.

Sam sighed and turned back to the angry man. He doubted that he would enjoy this interrogation. And to think, he had been hoping to come clean to Dean today.

 

* * *

 

The silence between Jess and Dean was awkward but it wasn't tense. It was filled with things that both wanted to ask but were unsure of. Dean wanted to ask whether or not she knew about the supernatural. Jess wanted to know whether or not Dean knew about Jack or that Sam hadn't been an entirely inactive hunter.

She wanted to know if he knew that Sam had been in touch with Bobby. She wanted to know if Dean really hadn't contacted Sam during the last four years.

Dean wanted to know if she knew that Sam had shut off all contact with the family when he left them to go off to college. Dean wanted to say that he was still mad that Sammy had left them but looking at Jess, looking at how much Sam's friend, James, was worrying about him and at how he had built a life for himself over the last four years made Dean realise that he was proud of his brother. Even if he had left everything of his previous life behind, including Dean himself.

"I met Sam late in our first year at Stanford," Jess began without prompting. "We started dating early in our second. I'm pre-med," Jessica smiled. "I introduced Sam to my parents during Christmas break in our second year. That was when I knew that I wanted to be with him forever." She blushed, looking away from Dean and to the small box that she was holding in her hands. "We moved in together this year, officially. James is our best friend. We met him when he was... – well that's an interesting story, and I think I should leave it to Sam to tell you that one." Jess smiled. "You two have a lot to catch up on, don't you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It's been four whole years since we've talked. Me and my dad, we move around a lot. We've never really been a Christmas card type of family either."

"I doubt many hunters are," Jess guessed. She smiled at Dean's look. "Sam told me everything. He didn't really want to but… well that's up to Sam to tell you."

Dean stared hard at Jess. "I guess you knowing about everything makes sense, you don't seem all that upset."

Jess heard the unspoken accusation in Dean's sentence. It was upsetting to lose their home, but she was too relieved that Sam, James and Jack – she hoped – were alright to be too devastated. She sighed. This was also something that Sam should be telling Dean, but it also concerned her too. Her, Sam and James – they were all involved in this – and, of course, the Demon.

Jess had numerous theories as to why she had been having visions of her friends' deaths but, given that she knew James's mother was dead, burned in a fire, and that her own aunt had been badly burned after she had seen a fire in Jess's room when she was only a few months old – Jess figured that it was all connected. The only connection she could gather was that this Demon had done something to them when they were babies.

Jess had seen, easily, how much Dean loved his baby brother. She knew from Sam how much Dean had basically raised him, Jack had backed him up. She could only hope that Dean loved Sam too much to hold any grudges against him for something that had been done to them when they were babies. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A calming trick she had learned from Jack. Jess had found herself in need of calming an awful lot these last few days.

"I know about the Demon that was in Sam's nursery on the night your mother died. I know that James's mother died in a fire in his room when he was a baby,” she paused for a minute, to gauge Dean's reaction. His face was carefully blank, not giving anything away. "I know that there was a fire in my bedroom when I was a baby too.

"And I know that the three of us all saw the night the Demon attacked us for weeks in advance."

The silence following that statement was tense.

 

* * *

 

 

When Jack woke up, the searing heat seemed to have lessened slightly. He didn't know why or how but he was willing to chalk it up the soft hands that were wrapped around his left hand.

He was sitting up against something that was both hard and comfortable. With a strong smell of blooming flowers. Flower.

"Has the ban on the little winter sprite been lifted?"

Jack didn't recognise the voice that asked but he was familiar with the tone. Other spirits didn't like him.

"You can't blame Jack for something that Old Man Winter did," came the reply. Jack could hear the shaking fury in the voice. It was something that he didn't remember hearing from that spirit before. Nate. Cool headed, calm Nate, sounding ready to snap.

Jack suddenly felt scared. Nate was never angry. Never. Something had to be terribly wrong and whenever something was wrong among the seasonal spirits it was usually his fault. Was he going to die?

Jack wished he could ask but he was familiar with was wrong with him. He was somewhere in the 'Spirit World' where spirits and sprites of all kinds could meet without any danger from conflicting elements or seasons. People couldn't die here.

That was what was happening to Jack now. He was in a sort of limbo. His body was too weak to do anything, even truly wake up. It was likely Jack was in this state because his spirit wasn't attached to his body anymore.

"I'm truly sorry, but I can't go against Mother Nature's wishes."

Jack felt Flower's flinch at the sudden, loud slam of something. It sounded like something with skin.

" _'Mother Nature's wishes'?_ Her _'wishes'!_ it's her wishes that got Jack in this position. We all know that he's not a normal spirit! He never should have ended up Spirit of Winter, but her _wishes_ ended up putting him there. She killed Old Man Winter, and then never bothered to clean up her mess. The least she could have done was train Jack.

_“Of course,_ he messed up! _Of course,_ he pissed off a Guardian. But _what else was he supposed to do!?_ She hasn't given a damn about Jack since she couldn't stop the other winter spirits from rebelling! Mother Nature is just holding a grudge!"

That was Summer Heat, hot tempered and showing it. "She's _weak_ – she couldn't handle another rebellion, not from the seasons. And if you don't heal Jack, this instant, then that's what you're going to get!"

There was silence.

Jack didn't fully remember the rebellion of the winter spirits. He remembered Mother Nature killing Old Man Winter. He remembered the other spirits coming together, leaderless, in revolt. She had killed their leader without a trial. He had been like a father to them, and they didn't know what to do without him. They could have learned. Everyone knew that the spirits and Mother Nature had acted too hastily, but that was in hindsight. They were angry, and she had been furious.

Jack hadn't taken part in the revolt, he had been barely able to make even frost then. A baby sprite, they had called him, too young to fight.

Too young to be put in charge of winter, and far too young to have been blamed for the revolt. But he was the only one left to blame, so blamed he had been.

To threaten another rebellion by the spirits was incredibly serious. Summer was right, Mother Nature wasn't strong enough to take on the Four Seasons. And if the Four of them died, then nature itself would collapse. There would be no cold, no heat, no growth and no decay.

A sigh. Then, "Fine. Never let it be said that the Healer doesn't care about her spirits. But if this falls on our heads, I will say that it was your fault."

"Deal," said Flower. "Now save him."

 

* * *

 

The water was cold.

Jack hadn't expected it to be cold. It was the Water of Life. It healed all it touched. It was strange that it was cold.

Cold was the feeling of death. Jack knew all about cold. Why was the water cold?

Distantly, Jack was aware that he must be deteriorating. The Water of Life was outside of the Spirit World which meant he was in danger of dying again. He guessed that that should bother him more than it did.

The main thing that worried him was the water creeping up his chest. Were they going to let him drown?

"Don't worry Jack."

Easy for them to say.

"We're not going to leave you."

It felt like they were.

"You need to go under the water."

It was like asking him to walk through fire. He would prefer fire to water.

"Please, Jack? For Sam."

_Sam._ He had been hurt last Jack saw. Blood everywhere. Jack needed to get to him. But first he needed to get better.

Jack didn't know if he inhaled before letting himself sink down into the water. He didn't need air, not really.

But then why did he feel like he was drowning?


End file.
